There's Something About Blaine
by pi-on-a-skateboard
Summary: The first time it happened around Kurt was when the Warblers were frantically preparing for yet another performance. But what does this mean for them? What secrets lurk behind those hazel eyes? And how can they keep moving forwards?
1. The First Time

The first time it happened – or, at least, the first time around Kurt – was when the Warblers were frantically preparing for their 'impromptu' Valentine's performance at Breadstix.

That's not to say Kurt was completely clueless. He'd noticed the cinnamon flavouring Blaine's coffee, instead of sugar. He knew Blaine would only pick at food on their coffee dates-but-not-dates. He'd seen him slowly drag out a piece of pizza at the Warblers' Christmas Party, trying to make it seem like he was eating more.

That being said, it was still a shock.

Blaine had rushed into rehearsal – late – head moving too fast for his body in desperation and he stumbled slightly as he entered the room. His eyes were slightly gazed and his face deathly pale, dark rings painting the fatigue in his sunken eyes. "S-S-Sorry I-I'm l-l-l-late," he muttered, the words tripping out his mouth.

Wes and David shared a look, both frowning in concern. "That's okay, Blaine. Take a seat." The Asian gently prompted him.

Despite his own worry, Kurt couldn't help but feel a hint of resentment flare up. The last Warbler to arrive at practise was always late, even if 5 minutes early, yet somehow Blaine was the exception?

That wasn't fair, though, and Kurt knew it. Blaine was always early. He'd had a rough week and looked dead on his feet anyway. He slid slightly on the couch to make room for his friend, who sat heavily next to him, eyes averted.

"Are you alright?" Kurt whispered aside. Blaine just grunted noncommittally and sunk further back on the lounge. Kurt again felt his concern morph into frustration. Trust Blaine to make himself sick and push everyone else away.

"Okay, everybody, on your feet!" David barked, handing out sheet music. "No, Blaine, you stay sitting… We were thinking, seeing how it's love and all, we'd start with you on a stool and the rest of us circled round you, scatter the voices so we sound more united." He directed the boys around the couch. "We'll try the opening a few times… You guys know who you blend with, please _try_ to stick together!"

The choreography was fairly simple. A few turns, a bit of flirting with the other members, engaging with the 'audience'. So Kurt really couldn't help but notice Wes and David's eyes constantly flicking to Blaine then back to each other, or hear Thad mutter, "When was the last time he ate…?" Kurt had to frown at that. Blaine was always so confident… He couldn't have an eating disorder… could he?

Rehearsal seemed to deplete what little energy Blaine had left, his hands trembling, every note draining what little pigment he had remaining in his face. Breaking point came when Blaine tried to stand and his legs gave way – the boy buckled and clutched whoever was nearest him – which just so happened to be Kurt.

"Shit!" Wes exclaimed, though surprisingly rather calmly. "Where's his bag?" He started rummaging through one of the desks, looking for something. "Andrew, help Kurt lie Blaine down. Nick, go get the nurse, tell her it's happened again… Hopefully we won't need her though."

Meanwhile, Blaine was trying to speak. "K-K-K-Kurt… I-I n-need…" Kurt wasn't sure what scared him most – the sudden unexpected stutter, the whisper that his voice couldn't seem to reach beyond, or the flickering eyelids warning of the pre-eminent collapse.

"Need what?" Kurt gripped his shoulders tightly, swallowing the panic building in his chest. "Stay with me, Blaine, what do you need?"

"David, have you got his bag? Trent, go see if Kurt's alright? Try and calm him down?" Wes was still barking orders.

"I c-can't… I can't m-m-move… I-I-I'm s-sorry, K-Kurt…" Blaine's breathing grew more shallow. Kurt could see his pulse beating in his neck, very rapid yet remarkably strong. He felt a hand on his back as Trent knelt down beside him.

Jeff hurried up to them, ripping open a packet of gummi bears. "They're not Red Vines, Blaine, I'm sorry," he muttered, lying on his stomach near Blaine's head. He turned to Kurt. "Do you want to, or shall I?"

Blaine groaned. "Sh-sh-sh-sh…"

Jeff cut him off. "Got it here." He put a couple of bears on Blaine's tongue. "Chew, you idiot!"

But Blaine just spat them back out, too weak to move his jaw even that much any more. Apparently he'd reached the point of resistance, though he didn't have the energy to argue.

Wes hurried up to them then, tube of sweetened condensed milk in his hands. "Kurt, stand back, he HATES this and it will go EVERYwhere. But it'll help." He squirted some into Blaine's mouth, holding his breath. Blaine gagged slightly, but swallowed.

The change was almost instant. His breathing slowed, and the faintest hint of pink appeared on his cheeks. David walked up to them next, bag in hand, and spoke quietly to Wes. Kurt watched in silence, confused, wondering what the hell he had just witnessed.

"Kurt?" Blaine suddenly asked, his voice a lot stronger than five minutes before. He squinted, pushing himself slowly onto his elbows. "Wait… Wes… What am I sitting at?"

"25. You got lucky. How are you feeling?" Wes placed a couple of folded blazers underneath Blaine's head, then pushed him back down.

"Dizzy… Sick… The usual." Blaine groaned. "Oh, God, Kurt…"

Kurt blinked. "What… what just went on? Are you okay? How often does this happen?"

David put a hand on his shoulder. "Let him rest a bit longer. When he's back to normal, we'll explain."

"And… how long is that going to take?"

Blaine rolled over to face Kurt. "About fifteen minutes," he smiled.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yeap. I own nothing. Sorry, guys.**

**So... I wonder what's wrong with Blaine? Hmm... Hopefully you enjoy this. There will be more to come, though it's not a series as such, I'm thinking more just a collection... THere's probably some term for that, hey? But yeah. I don't know what that is.**

**So yes. All shall be revealed soon enough. Or enough as I can be bothered to. This is such a bad form of procrastination...**

**Please let me know what you think? Love me? Hate me? Wish grievous bodily harm on me? I love love love reviews, I'm always looking to improve my work :-)**

**Hope you enjoyed it. Keep smiling! :D**


	2. Stuck In Second Gear

Five minutes later, Blaine had propped himself up on his elbows, talking quietly to the nurse. Wes had ended rehearsal early, and only he, David and Kurt still remained with them in the room.

Ten minutes, and Blaine was sitting, leaning heavily against one of the couches, rubbing his temples and tentatively munching on some gummy bears.

Fifteen minutes and, true to his word, he was back on his feet. Most of his colour had returned, and though he was still visibly in pain and shaking like a Parkinson's patient, his eyes were clear and coherent.

"Come on," Wes smiled, as Blaine leant on Kurt for support. "Let's go get some coffee."

* * *

><p>"So," Kurt began, waiting for his non-fat mocha to cool. "I take it that's not the first time this has happened…?" He felt Blaine squirm slightly, while Wes and David seemed to take a sudden interest in the tablecloth. "Really? My best friend collapses, which is terrifying in itself, but you guys almost treat it like it's normal? And you don't think I have the right to know what's going on?"<p>

Blaine sighed. "It's… complicated…"

Kurt turned his bitch face on him. Sure, he was concerned for Blaine and alarmed at what had happened. But didn't Blaine trust him? What other secrets had he been hiding? Didn't he say only this morning that he 'didn't want to screw things up'? "It's obviously fairly important, Blaine. When were you planning on telling me?"

"I… was hoping I wouldn't have to, actually," the boy muttered, blushing, hazel eyes looking anywhere but Kurt. "Not for a while. Or, at least, until you'd actually given us a chance."

Kurt choked. "What was that last bit?"

Blaine turned a deeper red. "Crap. I said that out loud, didn't I?" He put his face in his hands. "I'm so sorry, Kurt. My blood sugar's still off and… God, I really am good at screwing things up."

Wes pressed a glass of water into Kurt's hands, who was still coughing. "That's a whole other story that we won't go into now." His soft accent soothed Blaine, the words lapping gently like ripples on a pond. He squeezed Blaine's shoulder before shuffling back in his seat, hands clasped on the table. "Do you want to tell him? Or do you want us to?"

Blaine took a deep breath. "No, it's about time I did something right." He looked up, searching for those brilliant blue eyes. "Kurt, I… well, that was the first hypoglycaemic attack you've seen. It's probably not going to be your last."

"I'm not following you, Blaine." Why was no one giving him straight out answers?

"I'm diabetic."

Ah.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Bow-bow-booooooooow...**

**Shut it, Steph, these people think you're normal... **

**Thank you soooooooooo much to all the people that have alerted/favourited the story (and me, even more surprisingly!). It means so much to me. **Shout out to Cirien5 and Blink33Gal!** Sorry the chapter's a bit... well, dull, but I need to get this out the way before I can move back into my drama :P  
><strong>

**Still got more to follow. I'll have to explain a bit more about Blaine, and I've got a few ideas of how this is going to affect his life. Scenarios and stuff that I want to write. And obviously, I need to write the what I'm sure will be a very awkward conversation between Blaine and Kurt. Sigh. What have I got myself in for?**

**Hope it's okay. There will be more drama, I promise. But I thought you might like a bit of an answer first.**

**I should tell you, I am diabetic. So you can send me all the hate you want, but I've been diagnosed for 12 years and I'm studying Biomedicine. So I'm pretty confident with what I'm writing here. That being said, if anyone needs to talk at all I am more than happy to listen. I do remember being diagnosed and how terrifying that was. And I get what a pain it is! All my friends know about it though, it's usually one of the first things they learn - probably because they see the insulin pump on my hip and ask me about my mp3 player :P But I do know people who are honestly embarrassed about the disease, so I hope I can do it a bit of justice... Maybe.**

**Okay. ****Ending my 1 am rant. Hope you enjoyed it!**

**Oh. The disclaimer. I hate these, I really do. But, yes. I do not own Glee or write for profit - just because I enjoy doing so :P So please don't sue me!**

**Like it? Hate it? Wish to break all my fingers? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	3. Crumbling Like Pastry

Blaine sighed, trying to calm his still-racing heart. He could see that Kurt, sweet innocent caring Kurt, had paled slightly at the news. He glanced opposite the table at Wes and David, his mentors, who smiled encouragingly.

"I was diagnosed just as I started 9th grade." He fiddled with his cup, trying to draw some strength from its warmth, misty eyes focusing on his distant past.

* * *

><p>"<em>Mom, I really don't feel good," Blaine whispered, fresh tears rolling down his cheek.<em>

"_Blaine, it's time for you to grow up!" The woman snapped, not bothering to look at her son. "You've got to be a man. Honestly, if you get sick every time something gets hard… Not even your baby sister does that. Now get changed, and be ready in five minutes or we'll go without you!"_

_Blaine heaved a final time into the toilet, then brushed his teeth and stumbled into the car. It was his second week of school, and every morning he'd woken up like nausea itself had kicked him in the guts. His head pounded, his throat had turned to the Sahara desert and he could barely see straight. How was this _his_ fault?_

* * *

><p>Blaine heard a small noise, and looked up to see Kurt pressing his hand over his mouth. "You were physically ill… and she didn't believe you?"<p>

Blaine shook his head grimly, and continued speaking.

* * *

><p>"<em>Ms Alabaster… Can I please go to the toilet?" Second period was near ending. He'd already peed three times today. This was just humiliating!<em>

_The teacher turned from the blackboard as giggles erupted through the classroom. She glanced down at the boy who had spoken, bloodshot eyes flashing urgently under the thick mop of black curls. She felt a stab of pity for him. "Are you feeling alright? Blaine, right?"_

_Blaine desperately wanted to say no. Because, really, he felt awful. He wanted to go home and lie on the couch and have someone look after him until he got better. But that wasn't going to happen. "Yes, I'm fine," he managed to get out, his lips pursed tightly. "I just really need to go."_

_Whispers flew around the room, hurled from student to student. The teacher nodded slightly and Blaine rushed out the door. _

_He made it just in time. Running into the nearest cubicle he collapsed on the ground, stomach emptying itself violently. He hadn't eaten anything that morning. His throat and his mouth stung, and he kept spitting, frantically trying to rid himself of the smell and taste of bile. His heart sped up as his stomach rose into his chest and he tried futilely to draw in shuddering breaths as – _

* * *

><p>"Blaine." David's voice cut into his reverie. "I'm sorry, I know it's hard, but… we know what vomiting is like. Please spare us the detail." He looked slightly queasy.<p>

"Sorry, guys." Blaine muttered.

* * *

><p><em>The rest of the day was just flashes in Blaine's memory. Different scenarios, feelings, images, all jumping and whirling, surrounding him, coming in and out of focus like the dancers at a rave party. Waking up with the nurse over him and something cool and wet on his forehead. Sirens blaring and in the back of an ambulance. A stab of pain as an IV is inserted. Being rolled to the side as he vomits, vomits bile, can't stop. Can't breathe. White room, white sheets. Where are his parents? And all the time sick and pain and thirsty and horrible and wanttodiewanttodiewanttodie.<em>

* * *

><p>"I woke up in hospital three days later." Next to him, Kurt was white with shock, mouth hanging open. Even Wes and David were on edge, and they'd heard his story before multiple times. "My blood sugar level had gotten so high I'd slipped into a coma. If I hadn't been found in the bathroom, and if that n-nurse hadn't had called the ambulance immediately… W-w-well, I m-might not b-be here to-to-today."<p>

He could feel Kurt shaking with rage. "You were that sick. And your parents did absolutely nothing."

David jumped up suddenly. "Back in a moment."

Wes frowned at the reappearance of Blaine's stutter. "I think his parents were more concerned about their image than their son. Though, admittedly, seeing a child as sick as that must have terrified them, so I imagine they just tried to block out the idea that anything could be wrong. Play Happy Family. Not that I'm trying to excuse them for what they did…" He broke off, looking down.

Blaine's hands were trembling again and he could feel it getting harder to concentrate. "W-Wes…" he stammered.

David reappeared then, panting slightly, and pressed a can of lemonade into Blaine's hands. "Here. Drink. You need the sugar. Want us to take it from here?"

Blaine shook his head stubbornly. "N-no. Thanks. J-just let me finish this and I-I-I'll k-keep going." He felt Kurt's hand squeezing his shoulder, lending him strength, and he leant back, waiting for the glucose to kick in before he told the next part of his story.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: If it's not immediately obvious, the italics are flashbacks. Sorry it's a little jarring, they are just small**** flashbacks and I don't really want to expand too much on them... I guess it reflects Blaine's mindset though?**

**Poor Blaine... At least he has the Warblers now though! :-)**

**Thanks again for all the alerts and favourites! Shout out to Cirien5, Azaelia67 and Blink33Gal! I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations...**

**I don't own Glee or anything recognisable.  
><strong>

**Love it? Hate it? Want to steal my insulin so I stop writing? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	4. With A Little Help From My Friends

**Just a heads up, the main purpose of this chapter is to explain diabetes, so it can probably be skipped if need be.**

* * *

><p>Kurt gazed at Blaine in silence, watching his shaking hands slowly fall still and the merest hint of rose begin to paint itself across his cheeks. He felt such a strange array of emotions; a pinch of pity, a dash of admiration, throw in a few leaves of worry and you've made yourself a lovely Kurt's mindset salad!<p>

"I still don't really understand, though," he uttered. "I mean… you're sick. And that obviously links with this afternoon… but I don't really see how."

Blaine let out a shuddering breath, frowning slightly, unsure how to explain. "Kurt, have you ever seen Panic Room? Jodie Foster, Kristin Stewart before Twilight…?"

Kurt shook his head. "That movie always confused me."

"The little girl was diabetic… Look, basically my body can't regulate my blood sugar level. Your cells need the sugar – glucose – so that they can get energy. Insulin is a hormone that tells the cell to take up the glucose. My body no longer produces insulin."

Kurt frowned slightly. "So why are you not dead?"

David grinned. "Oh my God, Kurt, you can't just ask people why they're not dead!"

Wes snickered. "David, did you just quote Mean Girls?"

"Wes, did you just recognise a Mean Girls quote?"

"Touché."

They all laughed.

Blaine smiled. "So, I have to inject myself with insulin. Usually just twice a day. But it makes balancing my sugar really difficult. Especially with all the other hormones and stuff running around."

Comprehension dawned on Kurt's face. "So that's why you use cinnamon in your coffee? And you only eat little amounts? And… yeah, that does explain a lot."

Blaine nodded. "I have to eat certain amounts at certain times, yes. If I don't follow it, I get ridiculously sick. If I exercise, I have to eat more or cut down my insulin. And sometimes my readings just aren't normal for no good reason. Those days suck."

"So that number you asked Wes for… 25?… Was that normal?"

"Hell no. I'm meant to be between about 80 and 140. When I was diagnosed, I was about 650, barely alive. But today, when Wes tested me, I was barely conscious because my brain couldn't get enough sugar to operate."

"And how did they know what the number was? I know they did something, but I was too worried to actually watch them."

Blaine grinned, pulling out a small black case from his bag. "I've always got this close by." He unzipped it, revealing a small machine, some strips and a funny looking stick thing. "You want me to test your blood? It doesn't hurt."

Kurt drew back, shaking his head, and the boys laughed at him.

"It's okay," Blaine cooed. "I should check my levels again anyway, you can watch." He stuck one of the strips into the machine, then drew the stick thing back and pushed a button, causing the tip of his finger to bleed, which he wiped on the stick. It started counting down from ten as he sucked his finger clean. Then it beeped and a large 60 flashed on screen.

"60, Kurt. What does that mean?"

"That… you're low?"

Wes nodded. "I'll go get you a sandwich."

"That's right!" Blaine praised Kurt. "Now, I've just had a soda, so the sugar might still be taking effect. But I need some longer acting carbohydrates to stop me going back low again later on. So a sandwich is perfect right now."

"Wow, these two really know what they're doing, don't they?" Kurt turned back to the black boy sitting opposite him. "If I know Blaine, I'll bet you had to learn the hard way, didn't you?"

Wes materialised at the table and slid a plate across to Blaine. "Learn what, Kurt?"

"What to do with me," Blaine squeezed around his first mouthful.

David laughed. "Oh, the stories we have to tell you. Why don't we start now, while our lovely patient is busy stuffing his face?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So... I wonder what stories we'll hear?**

**Sorry for the (ever-so-slight) delay. I had an exam today, so I couldn't really afford the time yesterday to sit down and write. Apologise again for how dry this is... I felt like it needed to be written, and I tried to not make it just like a lecture. I'm not sure how clear this is to people though, so if you need clarification on anything, or you don't understand, please please please ask me and I'll explain, whether in a coming chapter or privately to you.**

**I'm working a ridiculously early morning shift tomorrow (I have to leave the house at 5 am) so I'm not going to post another update tonight. I do have a fairly good idea for the David's first story though, so hopefully I'll have that for you in the next couple of days!**

**If you have any questions at all about the story or about diabetes or, well, anything, feel free to ask. I'm writing this, and I'm drawing from my own experiences, and from those of my friends, so I'm pretty comfortable talking about everything!**

**Thanks to all the lovely people who have alerted/favourited. It's seriously the highlight of my day, seeing those alerts! Shout out to xFang's Angelx and a special shout out to Different Child for the lovely words!**

**Love it? Hate it? Want to steal my anatomy books so I'm busy distracted trying to find them and hence can't write any more for you? (Yeah, it's convoluted... see where my mind's at?) Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	5. A Drop in the Ocean

David turned to Wes. "Remember our first time?"

"Like it was yesterday," the senior grinned.

"I don't think we even knew his name then."

"Rehearsing the best song of all time."

"Beautiful Soul – Jesse McCartney."

"No… You're Beautiful. James Blunt."

"Wes, there is something wrong with you. That song sounds like a baby angel being repeatedly stabbed with a rusty spoon."

"David, Jesse McCartney is the Justin Bieber of five years ago."

Blaine and Kurt stared at the boys arguing like an old married couple. "Guys, people are already starting to debate your sexualities," Kurt joked. "And you're distracting Blaine from his food." He nodded at the sandwich drooping limply from Blaine's hand, like something most definitely not related to the male anatomy at all, thank you very much.

"It was Baby One More Time," Blaine mumbled as mastication recommenced. "Went on to become my first solo."

"Ah, yes." Wes nodded proudly. "Britney meets Doris Day. Didn't you arrange it yourself?"

David's eyes were cloudy as he gazed into the past. "God, that takes me back."

* * *

><p>"<em>Rehearsal doesn't start for another half hour, does it, Wes?" David asked his friend, ears pricking at the delicate rippling of the piano floating through the hallway. "Who <em>is_ that?"_

_They peered into the choir room, where a small boy sat hunched over the baby grand in the corner, fingers skimming the keys, a surprisingly low and husky voice dancing out his mouth._

I must confess, that my loneliness

Is killing me now

Don't you know that I still believe?

"_Is that… That's not Britney Spears, surely?" Wes whispered, raising an eyebrow._

"_New kid's definitely got talent. He's only a freshman though… That voice is going to get quite interesting." David frowned in thought._

_The boy looked up from the piano suddenly and sighed, raising a quivering hand to his head, clearly losing a battle with his emotions. "Oh, crap!" he exclaimed, rummaging frantically through his bag underneath the stool. Without even realising it, Wes and David were at his side, sliding onto the seat on both of his sides, the Asian gently slinging an arm around the slender boy's shoulders._

"_Hey there, newbie! My name is Wes, and this is David. Do you like gavels?"_

_The boy jumped practically off the bench. "I'm Bl-Blaine." He gasped, wiping a few stray tears from his face. "What are you doing here?"_

"_We're Warblers. We heard you playing…" David offered apologetically. "You're good. I mean, really good. You should suggest that to the Council!"_

"_Yeah, uh, maybe." Blaine shivered suddenly, huge spasms wracking his body. "I ha-hate to ask, b-but do you guys have any sh-sugar on you?"_

_Wes stood up, searching through the drawers in the desk at the back of the room. "The council usually has some sort of supply in here…" He handed Blaine a fun size pack of candy corn. "Will this do?"_

_The smaller boy nodded, ripping eagerly into the candy. "Thanks."_

_David and Wes watched on in relative silence as a spark of life seemed to relight itself in the strange boy, his eyes brightening and his trembling subsiding._

"_We've still got another half hour before we're due back," David spoke up, frowning over Blaine's shoulder at Wes. "Want to come grab a coffee with us?"_

_They stood up, Wes grabbing Blaine's bag as the freshman's clumsy fingers fumbled with the straps. "So, oh mysterious Blaine, tell me, what is your preferred size of gavel?"_

* * *

><p>David groaned. "Typical Wes. Of course our first conversation with Blaine was about <em>gavels<em>."

Wes looked hurt. "Well, I was curious. Though in all honesty, I have never heard Britney sound so melancholy, especially from someone so young."

"Hey, I may be short, but I'm only a year younger than you, Wesley!" Blaine looked somewhat hurt.

"Oh, do be quiet, hobbit." Wes chastised him. "We had to get you out of your shell somehow…"

Kurt smiled wryly. "So, you expected him to confess his life story to you? I bet he told you all about the diabetes and his father and everything else."

David stuck his tongue out at Kurt, meriting a sharp slap from Wes. "Not… exactly… But that was the beginning of our friendship."

"Thank God the first time we met him he asked for sugar," Wes spoke half to himself.

"Thank God you _remembered_ me asking for sugar." Blaine responded. "And for thinking so quickly."

Kurt's smile dropped. "I've got to hear this story, don't I?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yep. More cliff-hanger-esque endings. MWAHAHAHAHA.**

**Okay. My sincere apologies for taking FOREVER to get this up! The night I sat down to wrote it, I was halfway there when I got a call from work saying I was the ONLY person that could do this shift... So I went to work. Next night we had people over, then the two nights after that I was busy studying for two massive exams I had yesterday and today. But now all I have due is an essay, so hopefully it won't be as long.**

**It seems a little... off somehow. I'm not entirely sure what it is though or how to fix it, so if you've any ideas at all, please let me know! I appreciate constructive stuff just as much (if not more) than your praise.**

**A couple of things. Please don't send me hate for the offhand Justin Bieber, James Blunt and Jesse McCartney comments... Yeah, alright, I'm making fun of them. ****And while you can't really call my taste in music 'good' (I like _everything_) I can appreciate songs from all artists mentioned. Okay? I'm not trying to insinuate anything at all here.**

**As for the song. Well. Go listen to Darren perform his version of Baby One More Time. The specific one I have he starts off a little like Fur Elise. As for the description... Have you heard It's Over Now? I think he must have been about 15 when he recorded it, it's clear enough that it's him but honestly he sounds like his voice is breaking at that point in time (still freakishly in tune and all that though!). So combine that voice with that arrangement and that's basically how I hear it.**

**The story coming up is pretty much exactly what I went through at one point in time, so I can probably churn it out fairly rapidly, it just depends on how much time this Latin essay takes up. There'll be drama in it, too, but I also want to have some more of these chapters, because I really want to explore Blaine as a character. But we'll see. No promises :P**

**Hmm. I wonder how many people actually read all of this crap. I mean, I personally love reading author's notes, you get a feel for how they are as a person and how their mind works. And Steph, I think there's at least a couple of people out there who read this. STOP TALKING TO YOURSELF WOMAN. We must convince them all that we are sane. Yes, my pretty... Soon...**

******Anyhoo...**

**But wait! There's more! Keep in mind here I actually like those little bits of drama. So a lot of this will focus around Blaine's diabetes and what happens when it screws up. But we aren't all like this. I only go low maybe once a week or so, and I haven't actually had a bad hypoglycaemia in months at least.**

**Wow. I massively overestimate my self-worth...**

**So. Shout outs to twin1 and Different Child, whom I've been having a lovely conversation with!**

**Love me? Hate me? Wish for me to have actually eaten those three day old sausages and come down with _Staphlococcus aureus_ related food poisoning so that I couldn't have posted this for you?** **Let me know! Keep smiling! :D**


	6. Still Alive But Barely Breathing

Blaine coughed. "You know, I have virtually no memory of that rehearsal."

Kurt sighed. "Do _all_ of your stories centre around the Warblers?"

"I'm not surprised by that" Wes raised an eyebrow at Blaine before turning back to the countertenor. "Keep in mind, Kurt, that David, Blaine and myself are all in different years. Most of our initial interaction would have to be through the Warblers."

"You know, Blaine," David piped up, "You really are one lucky son of a gun."

"So what happened, exactly?" Kurt asked.

Wes sighed, tracing patterns into the tablecloth, opening his mouth to tell the next tale.

* * *

><p><em>Wes was pacing the room anxiously. It was his first meeting as a member of the Council and he desperately wanted it to run smoothly. He ruffled through the sheet music – his own arrangement – glaring at David as he felt an elbow digging at his ribs.<em>

"_Yo, Wes, what's up with Blaine? He looks like he's gonna hurl or something." David whispered. Wes whipped his head up to see the boy enter, swaying slightly, a nasty green tinge to his skin._

"_Whoa there, mate!" Jeff called out, catching the freshman as he pitched forward suddenly. "You look about to cark it!"_

_Wes and David hurried forward. "Blaine… Are you alright?" Wes asked cautiously, as they helped him sit on the couch. _

_Blaine crouched forward, elbows crossed on his knees and head resting on his arms. "I'm okay," he managed to get out. "Just don't feel too good."_

"_Do you need anything? Water, food, to lie down…" David gently prompted._

"_My Mum sent me some bikkies from home, I've got them in my bag if you want one, Blaine." Jeff told him, rubbing his back._

"_No. I'll be okay." Blaine moaned, rocking somewhat. "Don't worry about me."_

_The meeting was called to order then, and Wes had to hurry to the Council desk. His eyes kept flicking to Blaine though, trying to ascertain whether his condition was improving or deteriorating. At least Jeff and David were flanking him either side, they could rush him to a bathroom or catch him if need be._

_Because Wes had arranged the whole song himself, it followed that he would have to conduct the group as well. So he missed Blaine having to be lead off the couch by the hands by Jeff. He missed the many stumbles that the boy made as he struggled to dance. He didn't hear the stutter that crawled into the broken whispers of the Warbler, and he didn't hear how nonsensical his responses were to even the simplest questions from David._

_He did, however, notice when Blaine missed the two lines of his solo. Eyebrows knitted in concern, he cut the Warblers off, then hunted down the three boys, who were sitting at the back. He knelt down in front of Blaine, placing a hand on his shoulder._

"_Blaine, can you hear me?" Wes clicked in front of his face, but to no avail. "Jeff, how long has he been like this?"_

_Jeff paled. "He said he needed to sit down… but he kept talking to us. I don't know. I'm not an ambo, I don't know how to deal with this stuff, I don't know what's wrong with him, Wes, what did I do?" He bit down on his fist, on the verge of panic._

"_It's okay, Jeff, it's not your fault. Can you go and get the nurse for me?" Wes focused on steadying his voice, trying to keep the room calm before all hell broke loose. Thank God for a desperate desire to be a doctor._

"_Blaine, can you tell me where you are? Can you squeeze my hands for me?" Wes put a hand on the outside of Blaine's hands, but there was no movement. He was still sitting though, which was interesting. He could vaguely remember Blaine asking for candy when they first met a month ago; he started formulating ideas in his head._

"_David, I want you to lie him down and roll him to the side, can you do that? Nick, can you go and find his bag? There's something I want to check. Thad, in the desk there should be some Reese's Pieces or candy corn or something, can you bring them here? The rest of you, please give us some space. Consider today's meeting adjourned." He was only a junior, but as the only one in the room with first aid training and a natural leader, the rest just followed his orders blindly._

_Wes put his fingers to Blaine's exposed neck, checking his carotid pulse. He whistled as he felt the boy's heart racing, so strong that he could see the vein pulsing under the clammy skin. "Hang in there, Blaine," he spoke in a low voice, though he was uncertain whether he was trying to calm his friend or his own pounding heart._

"_David, while you're holding him there, can you call 911 please? We may not need it, but he's not responding to voice currently, some extra help would be great. Put them on loud speaker, I'll talk." Wes was squeezing Blaine's shoulders, looking for a response to pain. His hand twitched, but no one really knew what that meant._

"_**911, what's your emergency?" **__A female voice called from the phone suddenly._

"_My friend has collapsed, he's not responding to voice but his eyes are open and his hand twitched when I squeezed his shoulder." His accent spit the words out forcefully._

"_**Okay, where are you currently?"**_

"_Dalton Academy, Westerville, Ohio."_

"_**That's great. Are there any teachers with you? A nurse?"**_

"_The teachers have all left apart from the boarding masters, we've sent for the nurse but she hasn't arrived yet."_

"_**Does he have any medical conditions? Epilepsy? Diabetes? Any allergies?"**_

"_I don't know," Wes choked out. "I've only known him a month, he hasn't said anything…"_

"_**Okay, hon, don't worry. Now, an ambulance is on its way. I want you to roll him on his side, okay? And keep talking to him. If anything changes, if he gets better or worse, you can call us back, alright?"**_

"_Thank you," Wes sighed and hung up the phone._

_Thad rushed up to Wes, clutching some Twizzlers and a tube of fake blood, remnants from their Halloween party. Blaine's eyes were fluttering now, and Wes knew he had little time remaining. "I'm sorry, Blaine, keep fighting to stay awake!" He urged the kid, squeezing some of the raspberry gel onto his finger and rubbing it along Blaine's lips, too scared that he might choke on anything more._

_Blaine let out a jagged breath, but his eyes remained open._

"_Blaine? Blaine? Can you hear me?"_

_Nothing else changed._

_Then Jeff burst into the room with the nurse, panting slightly. "Oh, good, you've got him in the recovery position. Guys, you've done an amazing job so far, but you should all leave. Wes, you stay here though, I need to speak to you." The boys jumped up from their respective positions, grabbing their bags and walked out silently._

"_Did you know that Blaine is diabetic?" Wes shook his head. "But you gave him candy?" The nurse indicated the open fake blood packet._

"_When we first met him, he seemed ill, but he asked us for sugar, which seemed to help him then. His pulse was racing but really strong, and I thought that maybe it might help again…" He trailed off uncertainly._

"_You've done all the right things. See this number?" The nurse showed him a 20 on a machine. "This is his blood sugar level. It should be over 80 at least." She looked up momentarily, pulling out an orange case from her bag. "I'm going to show you this now, but I'll teach you later." She worked quickly, pulling out a syringe and a bottle of powder, mixing them and injecting all of it into the fat in Blaine's thigh. "And now we wait."_

"_We called an ambulance, too." Wes suddenly thought. "Should we cancel it?"_

_The nurse looked up in wonder. "You really did think of everything, didn't you? No, we'll wait a couple of minutes. If he gets better, then maybe. But we might still need it." Wes nodded, pressing his head against his adrenaline-ridden hands, suddenly feeling shaky. "Breathe, sweetie. You were amazing. You might have just saved his life."_

_Blaine groaned suddenly, his hand twitching._

"_Wes, he's had glucagon, move away from his mouth. We'll have to hold him on his side until he can sit up, but he might vomit in that time, okay?" She placed a hand on his back, trying to send the junior warmth and comfort through her touch._

"_Blaine? Blaine? Can you hear me? It's Wes. I… I really hope you're okay." He broke into a smile as another gurgle rose from Blaine's throat. "He's still alive!" He breathed a sigh of relief._

"_G-G-G-G… W-W-W.." The freshman tried to form words._

"_Blaine, my name's Ms Wearne, I'm the school nurse. Your blood sugar plummeted and you collapsed. Wes and the boys have been taking care of you. Can you tell me what day it is?"_

"_F-F-F-Fr-Fr-Fr-Fri-d-day," he gasped out, voice barely above a whisper._

"_That's good, Blaine," she soothed. "How are you feeling?"_

_The corners of his mouth twitched. "S-S-S-Sick."_

"_Are you going to be sick?"_

"_M-M-Maybe."_

_The nurse checked his blood sugar again. "You're back up to 48 now. Can you sit?"_

"_I-I'll t-t-try." He stammered._

_Wes and Ms Wearne each took one of Blaine's shoulders and hoisted him upwards, propping him against one of the leather couches. The nurse placed a steadying hand on Blaine's shoulder, handing him an emesis bag. "Let me know if you need help to use this, Blaine." He nodded, grasping the plastic tightly, and the nurse turned to Wes. "He's going to need something else to eat, otherwise he'll crash again later. Can you run down to the cafeteria and grab him something complex? An apple, a wholemeal sandwich, something of the sort? I'll stay here and keep an eye – " she broke off as Blaine started retching. Wes backed out the room, repeating her instructions._

_When Wes returned, a packet of cheese and crackers in tow, the change in Blaine was remarkable. He was sitting on the desk chatting animatedly with the nurse. They looked up as Wes entered._

"_Oh God, Wes, I am so sorry you had to see that," Blaine apologised profusely._

"_Hey, it's okay," Wes held up a hand. "I wish that you had told us about being diabetic, but honestly, I'm just glad you're still alive. You really scared all of us there. I take it you're feeling better?"_

_Blaine nodded. "My head hurts, but I'm not low any more, I'm high! Look at me, Wessy, I'm taller than you!" He jumped up onto the desk._

"_Is that… normal?" Wes muttered to the nurse, handing Blaine the food and trying to drag him back down._

"_His sugar levels are pretty out of whack at the moment," she replied, grinning. "I think he'll be alright. He's pretty adamant on not coming back to the infirmary though… You board here, right? I know this is a huge ask, but could you possibly stay with him tonight? I'll even give you a radio so you can contact me directly…"_

_Wes nodded, grinning slightly. A night of playing doctor with a crazed-out Blaine? Oh, all the blackmail possibilities…_

"_Wes? Wessy? I love you." Blaine wrapped the junior in a big hug. "You're cuddly. Like a teddy bear. But you're not squishy. So I will not call you squishy, and you will not be my squishy. Can we watch Finding Nemo, Wessy?"_

_Wes laughed, texting David. "This is going to be a long night."_

* * *

><p>"Did I ever thank you for that?" Blaine asked them, wincing slightly.<p>

"Check your blood sugar," Wes ordered him, evading the question.

"That's… really scary." Kurt said, hands white from clasping them together so tightly.

"You've no idea," David replied. "We got absolutely no sleep that night."

"Sorry…" Blaine mumbled, sucking his bleeding finger, then coughed.

"So, why were you low then? That was pretty crazy." Kurt wanted to know.

"I was actually really sick. I got gastro the next day and ended up in hospital." Blaine sneezed twice.

"Bless you! Not before you gave it to us in thanks, though." Wes chuckled. "What's your BSL?"

"92." Blaine sneezed again. "Ugh. As much fun as this has been, I'm kinda wrecked." He cleared his throat, grimacing. "Can we…?"

The boys immediately began packing up, and head towards the dormitories. Kurt pulled Blaine into a hug. "You're still the same Blaine Anderson," he told him. "And I'm keeping an eye on you tonight. Wes, David, slumber party, Blaine's room, you in?" He ducked as Blaine took an annoyed swipe at his hair, giggling maniacally the entire way to the dorm.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: HOMG. Over 2000 words. Which, okay, isn't too bad, I've written more before. But I was NOT expecting to write quite this much for this story... But there you go.**

**So, I watched Mash-Up. I won't go nuts discussing it yet. I might later. BUT I will say that it played on a lot of my insecurities. And what happened right before Rumour Has It / Someone Like You? Slightly relevant to my life right now. You can go visit my Tumblr if you want more information on that - pi-on-a-skateboard(.)tumblr(.)com. But, what I mean to say is, I understand. If any of you guys are hurt or worried or anything at all, I am more than happy to listen, you can hit up my Ask box or PM or review asking for help or anything. Whatever it is that's wrong, you are not alone, okay? I'm here for you! I'll listen. I'll send virtual hugs and fudgecakes too :-)  
><strong>

**I may or may not have just made Jeff an Australian. STEPH YOUR STEPHNESS IS SHOWING IN YOUR WRITING! Ah well. You non-Aussies can enjoy imagining his accent. Meanwhile I'm going to take the mickey slightly, because he's blonde and now apparently Australian. Head-canon, he's like my ex-boyfriend (who broke up with me cos we live 750 km away, so I don't hate him or anything) - and he's a real country boy, so if I ever use Jeff... Yeah. Country Aussie kid.**

**Anyhoo...**

**Oh. An anonymous reviewer pointed this out to me, and even though I removed the comments it still is slightly relevant. If I say the Asian, it means Wes, okay? Or Mike or Tina later on, depending on context. Yes, I am fully aware that Darren is (half) Philipino. ****But the only indication as to Blaine's heritage that we are given is that he and Rachel would produce "slightly Eurasion-looking babies." So the Asian does NOT refer to Blaine, even if that's the direction they decide to take it.**

**Sigh. I've been up since 5 for a shift this morning. I'm working tomorrow during the day, and Friday for 8 hours during the day... So I'll try and have more for you soon, but it may not be for a couple of days.**

**Thank you to all my lovely readers, to those especially who have alerted/favourited. You guys are the bomb! Shout outs to Different Child yet again (and I will get round to replying to that review/message soon enough... but I'm exhausted atm so probably not til tomorrow) and PrInCeSsFBi!**

**Oh, and a disclaimer. I don't own Glee or any recognisable characters, or songs or artists as they may come up. This goes for the last chapter too, okay. So please don't sue me!**

**Love me? Hate me? Want to make work give me 8 hour shifts and active nights constantly so that I'm too busy to write for you and update? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	7. The Christmas CanCan

"You really are incorrigible, you know that, right, Kurt?" Blaine mumbled sleepily from his bed.

"That's a big word for such a small person," Kurt teased back. "Blaine, you're obviously not well, and I've just learnt that my best friend has diabetes after witnessing him nearly fall into a coma. There is no freaking way I'm leaving you alone tonight." He tilted his head back, leaning against Blaine's mattress, so his upside down blue eyes met hazel ones. "Besides, from what I've heard, you make for a pretty amusing diabetic. I'm looking forward to getting some non-life-threatening stories of my own."

Wes had to grin at that. "Oh, we have plenty of those to tell you too." He was perched on Blaine's desk, facing the younger boys.

Blaine cracked an eye open. "Don't you dare."

"Hush, child." David laughed from the TV. He held up a couple of DVD's. "Not that it matters, seeing how you'll be asleep in five minutes anyway, but what'll it be? Die Hard 3 or The Lion King?"

"Urrrrrrghhhh juizzzzze," Blaine muffled into the pillow.

"What was that, Blainey-boo?" Kurt prodded him lightly. "Cat got your tongue?"

"Kurt can choose," he enunciated. "Wake me up – "

"10 minutes before dinner for your shot." David interrupted, turning the TV on. "What do you want, Kurt?"

"Either way, it's the gorgeous Jeremy Irons. I don't care."

"The Lion King it is!" David announced happily. "Scar sure is a sexy beast."

"David, are you _sure _you're straight?" Wes waggled his eyebrows questioningly.

"For everything except your gavels!" David bit back, ducking the pillow now in a trajectory path towards his face.

Kurt leant against the bed watching them bicker, Blaine beginning to gently snuffle above him. How anyone could sleep though their racket was beyond him. Poor thing must be exhausted. How Kurt wanted to run a gentle hand over that face, now smoothed with sleep. But that was creepy. And of the many adjectives that could be used to describe Kurt Hummel, creepy-stalker-who-watches-you-while-you-sleep was not one of them. And yes, that is one word. Look it up in the dictionary and you'll find a picture of Elmo.

Blaine snored, wrenching Kurt back to reality. "He really doesn't like being cared for, does he?" he wondered aloud.

Wes smiled sadly. "I don't think he's used to it. You've got a vague idea of his home-life, Kurt. But we're always here for him. And for you too." He opened his arms and Kurt all but fell into them, his cool façade fraying, tears pulling the loose threads of serenity until he was sobbing wordlessly into the senior's neck.

"Hey… Shhh, Kurt… It's okay…" Wes' accent became more pronounced as he held the countertenor.

"I'm sorry," Kurt whimpered. "You know, I can't do this back home. Break down. Especially around the guys."

Wes pulled him tighter. "Do you know how many of the guys here have come to me to get stuff off their chest? I think you're the only one not to, up until now. And today – this week, really – can't have been easy on you."

Kurt sighed. "I know, the whole Jeremiah thing… It's kinda getting sorted out now."

"Look, Kurt." His eyes met the chocolate of David's, a dark hand squeezing his shoulder. "Blaine's… well, he's a teenage boy. Just like you. He really cares about you."

"So much so," Wes interjected, "that I think he didn't want to drag you into his own mess of a life. So when he felt a spark of something for someone else, he jumped on it, hoping he could find happiness without having to yank you down with him, that constant worry on your shoulders."

"Well, that worked out well for him." Kurt spat bitterly.

"Hey, he's diabetic," David's eyes flashed. "He tries to eat that cake he has and it's gonna bite him on the bum harder than any of us."

Kurt sighed, his breathing evening out. "Thanks guys. Wes, you're really good at this whole talking thing."

"Yeah, Wes is great with the comforting." David smiled. "Are _you_ sure you're straight, Wes?"

"I think you'd better ask your mother that, David." Wes bantered.

"Ew. No, Wes, just no. Too far, man." David grimaced, clamping his eyes shut in the hopes of removing those images.

"It's scary though," Kurt whispered, previous concerns flying back into his head. "He's like a walking time-bomb that keeps going off. Your stories all involve fainting and hospitals and needles…"

"That's not true." David snickered. "Now, Blaine is just Blaine. But a lot of his craziness can be explained by his blood sugar as well." He turned to Wes. "Remember the Christmas Can-Can?"

"Of course!" Wes broke into a grin, eyes crinkling. "Our best performance ever! Who could forget?"

* * *

><p>"<em>Wessy… The tape keeps getting stuck to my fingers… Why did they have to make it so sticky?" Blaine whined. The three boys were sitting under the Christmas tree near the staircase, wrapping presents to be donated to the Westerville Nationwide Children's Hospital.<em>

_Wes frowned at the nickname. "Blaine, how's your blood sugar?"_

"_I'm fine," he bristled. "But the tape's being icky, Wessy, I don't like it!"_

_David sighed. "Look, Blaine, there's a piano!" He pointed across the atrium to the baby grand. "Why don't you go and play it?"_

_Blaine jumped up. "Yay! Piano!"_

_There was peace again in the world as _Silent Night_ came rippling through the halls (that were, in fact, decked with boughs of holly). But, like anything with a hypoglycaemic Blaine, it didn't last long._

"_Is that…" David started._

"_The Can-Can?" They asked each other._

_Wes shook his head. "Listen… he's singing…"_

Christmas, Christmas time is here, and Christmas songs you love to hear,

Thoughts of joy and hope and cheer, but mostly shopping, shopping, SHOPPING!

_David burst into laughter. "Please, Wes, tell me you're recording this!"_

Christmas, Christmas time is here, the sleigh bells and the red-nosed deer,

Songs, and songs we love to hear, all played a thousand times each year.

_The music suddenly morphed into _Angels We Have Heard On High.

Heard this same song 20 times,

And it's only Halloween!

It's not even cold outside!

_Wes looked at David, excitement pouring from his eyes. "We really should do a parody/mash-up of some carols. The Council needs to loosen up a bit!"_

_David stared at him in shock. Strict, proper, gavel-banging Wes, wanting to loosen up? "Wes… are you feeling alright?"_

_Wes grinned wickedly. "Hey, it's Christmas. Miracles can happen." He glanced up from a freshly wrapped box to find Blaine bouncing up and down in front of them._

"_Did you like my song, Wessy-poo?" He hopped urgently from foot to foot._

"_I did, Blainey-bear." Wes reassured him. "In fact, I think we should suggest it to the Council."_

_But Blaine wasn't listening – he was, instead, headbanging to the next part of his song._

Christmas season, starting sooner every year,

It's October, stores with plastic Christmas trees,

Ransack the mall, shop until you lose your mind.

"_Who spiked his eggnog?" David muttered aside._

"_Shh, just listen."_

_Blaine was now attempting in a rather uncoordinated fashion to high kick. Nick and Jeff wandered by, cracking up as Blaine slipped to the ground, landing unceremoniously, then looked up and gave them a dopey grin._

"_You're such a dag, Blaine!" Jeff laughing, pulling him back up. "It's your feet that belong on the ground, not your arse!"_

_But instead of thanking them, Blaine was running to Trent, who was walking in the opposite direction scowling._

"_Trent! Trenty! What's wrong? It's Christmas!"_

_Trent gaped at him. "I'm Jewish…"_

"_Happy Hanukah then!"_

Dreidel, dreidel, dreidel, I made it out of clay…

_Trent stalked off, shaking his head. "Control your puppy!" He called over his shoulder to Wes._

"_Blaine! I've got something for you!" Wes called out to him, and like, well, like a dog, Blaine came sprinting back._

"_Is it Santa Claus? Santa Santa Santa Santa Santa!"_

"_Uh… no…" David thought wildly._

"_A p-puppy? Puppy puppy puppy p-p-p-puppy!"_

_There was that telltale stutter Wes was looking for._

"_Better than a puppy!" Wes said excitedly. "Candy canes!"_

"_Yay! They're my favourite!" Blaine accepted the sweet, greedily stuffing it in his mouth._

_Ten minutes later and Blaine was rocking, beet-red face in hands, apologies streaming from his mouth like people from a New York subway in peak hour._

"_Oh, no. Please tell me that didn't just happen."_

_David had an evil glint in his eye. "Shall we show him the video now?"_

* * *

><p><strong>So I don't say this very often... But I actually really like this chapter! It was heaps of fun to write... And that may or may not have been because I was working an 8 hour shift that started at 7 in the morning... But yeah. Crack and fluff and comforting and... yeah. It's funny, I'm actually thinking Wes might be better suited to teaching now. But we shall see.<strong>

**Actually, Wes did surprise me a little. I wasn't expecting him to turn out so mentor-like. But, I suppose, he and David are Blaine's best friends, so there'd have to be something there...**

**Alright, as much as I'd dearly love to claim ownership for the lyrics... They aren't mine. They belong to Straight No Chaser. Please, for the love of Klaine, go look up The Christmas Can-Can. It is hilARious. I just chose some of my favourite bits. And there's parts used in dialogue as well, but it's not as obvious.**

**I also don't own Glee or anything recognisable.**

**Shout outs to Alianne Potter-Black, Akina, Different Child, Cirien5, and Lalice of Roses. And a humungous shout out to .Wonderland. She is an amazing person, great to talk to, and I've only just recently discovered her fics but they are beautiful and you should all go check her out! Immediately!**

**I feel like I should be complaining more or ranting more or something. But I'm pretty out. It's been a long day. Though I got a massive sense of accomplishment when I held a full conversation with my client today - he's deaf, and I had no idea that my Auslan (that's Australian Sign Language) was proficient enough. But apparently it is!**

**Oh, and my friend who lives 6 doors from me. Her Dad's an endocrinologist. It was really funny today because he asked me (of all people) to help him make this presentation about Type 1 diabetes and exercise... And all the while I'm thinking, I HAVE to get home to publish this!**

**Okay, rambling enough. See, this is what happens when my blood sugar level drops. I ramble. Or, at least, I ramble worse than I usually do. Hehe. Look through Blaine's symptoms, and tell me which other ones I might display?**

**Oh, and thanks for all those reading, and for the favourites and alerts and reviews and everything. They really motivate me to get this done!**

**Love me? Hate me? Want to take away my delicious Coles Cola bottles (my current hypo treatment) so I have to find something else to use and forget all about publishing? (Wow, these are getting so periphrastic now...) Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D  
><strong>


	8. Kentucky Fried Chicken and A Pizza Hut

"Blaine! Pizza! Time to get up!" A chirpy voice floated from the abyss, bobbing and twisting, dipping and swirling, flipping and eddying, like silt in a muddy creek trying to cling to the shore but only being rushed straight through.

"Come on, Blaine, you need your insulin." This voice was softer, closer, the vowels clipped ever so slightly by the harsher consonants of the gentle accent.

Blaine rolled over onto his stomach, pulling the doona tighter over his head in a cocoon.

"Blaine Anderson! If you don't get your sorry ass out of bed this second I am taking not just your hair gel but the entire _school's_ and selling it to bribe the council to outlaw Katy Perry!" Kurt's scream pierced the air like a harpoon, yanking Blaine back to consciousness.

"You're still here." The hoarse words rolled out the sophomore's mouth, the ghost of a smile appearing on his face.

"Of course I am, dummy," Kurt grinned, passing Blaine his glasses. "You'll have to try harder than that to scare away a Hummel!"

The room came into focus. Kurt's beautiful face was beaming down at him, while David was clutching Wes beside the bed, doubled over in peals of laughter.

"You won't wake up to save your life," the African-American gasped out, "but threaten your hair gel and Katy Perry? Kurt, my man, you have a gift."

"Wes, can you hit him for me? I would but I'm too far away." Blaine pulled a box out of his bedside table. "And Kurt's a banshee. That voice could break glass." He pulled out a vial of insulin, inspecting it theatrically. "Nope. Have to try harder next time, Kurt."

Kurt stuck his tongue out. "So, what exactly do you have to do now?"

Blaine mouth perked up at the corners. He'd forgotten what it felt like to be foreign to this. Even if it had only been 3 years since his diagnosis, the disease was already such a part of his life – it was just something he had to do everyday, like someone brushes their teeth or has a shower. The only difference was that forgetting to check his blood sugar or inject led to consequences much worse than bad breath.

"This is insulin, Kurt. What I have to do, I mix a certain amount of the cloudy one and the clear one and inject that. Twice a day. I can have more if my sugar levels run high, or I can either eat more or have less insulin if I'm running low… Do you want to watch?"

Kurt paled slightly, looking thoughtful. "I… I don't like needles… Or blood."

Wes laughed, moving forward to rub the countertenor's shoulder. "You'll get used to it pretty quickly."

"Hey, Blaine… What's that?" Blaine followed Kurt's finger to a long, slim orange case.

"That's glucagon, Kurt. It's kind of the opposite of insulin." Blaine broke off, coughing.

Wes stepped up in his place, as David threw a water bottle to the table. "That's the thing the nurse showed me. It brings his blood sugar up really quickly. It's a needle though. We'll have to show you at some stage, but now isn't the time."

"Kurt, you…" Blaine gasped out. "I'm injecting now. I'll meet you and David downstairs in the hall? Wes can keep an eye on me, I know he won't leave me alone anyway. Must have a secret crush on me!" He joked.

Kurt and David left the room, the oak door closing with a sharp snap. "So, Wesley, what stories have we been telling young Kurt in my absence?"

* * *

><p>"Blaine!" Jeff jumped up from the table as Blaine and Wes entered the dining hall, shortly followed by the rest of the Warblers. All of them – or, at least, the boarders – were crowded around a table, chatting animatedly over slices of pizza, desperately waiting to see their lead soloist.<p>

Blaine held up a hand, his huge grin lighting up the room. "I'm okay, guys." He quickly turned his head over his shoulder, sneezing twice. "But I'm not feeling great, so let me eat and we'll see what happens tomorrow." He quickly sat down opposite Jeff, between Kurt and Wes.

"How do you know how much you need to eat?" Kurt asked curiously. "And what happens if you get it wrong?"

"A normal piece of pizza has about 30-40 grams of carbs in it, depending on the toppings. I need about 60 for dinner, but because I've been going low I can afford to overshoot a little." Blaine said, swallowing a mouthful of cheese with only a small grimace of pain.

Jeff noticed it though and frowned. "If he eats too much, his reading goes up. If he doesn't eat enough, his blood sugar level drops. And then we have to fix it." Blaine glared at him. "Hey, I'm trying to save that fading voice of yours. We have a performance tomorrow, you know!"

Blaine sighed. "So why don't we just put it back in its normal key? Or give the solo to someone else!"

Jeff and Nick both looked up eagerly. David smiled. "Nick, we'll keep you in mind. Better prepare for Silly Love Songs anyway, just in case." Nick high-fived Jeff, while the others looked on in amusement.

"Did it take you guys long to learn this stuff?" Kurt asked them. "Jeff, you seem to be an expert already…"

Blaine raised his eyebrows. "Jeff used to room with me, Kurt. Don't get jealous."

"You just like him because he's from Australia."

Blaine poked his tongue out. "No, I like him because he's blonde."

Nick caught sight of the hurt expression on Jeff's face and hit Blaine. "He has more going for him than just that, guys…"

Blaine swatted him back and cleared his throat. "That's very true. Why don't you tell Kurt about the time you saved my life?"

* * *

><p><strong>Hey guys. Sorry this is ridiculously rushed, I really wanted to get you an update because I'm going to a sleepover shift tonight and then going straight to a place in Woop Woop with my friends after that for 2 nights, then have a party Friday night so I can't update til <strong>**Saturday. Or Friday if you're one of the many that live over the other side of the world to me. It might be a little... rough because of that. I haven't had time to proofread and stuff.**

**I'm interested though, what do you guys want to see in this? What parts of it are you enjoying? I love writing it and I have a vague idea of where this is going, but it's ridiculously easy for me to manip it a bit to get your ideas in. And I want you all to actually enjoy it. So please let me know!  
><strong>

**My usual thanks to everyone. I'll update this later with the proper thank you's, but I have to point out that FFnet failed on the last chapter, my massive shout out was meant to go to Falling. Through. Wonderland (without the spaces).**

**My usual disclaimer.**

**Okay, gotta run so I don't miss my train.**

**Love me? Hate me? Want me to continually have an amazing time with friends and work so I HAVE NO TIME TO PUBLISH? Please let me know.**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	9. A Whiter Shade of Pale

"To which time are we referring in particular?" Nick asked, seeing how Jeff was too busy ripping bits of chicken and salami.

"I think the first time he did was maybe three weeks after I got out of hospital…" Blaine's face morphed with his thoughts.

"I don't think I quite _saved_ your life that time, Blaine." Jeff blushed, eyes focused solely on the string of cheese floating from his pizza slice.

"No, you were amazing." Nick nudged his boyfriend gently.

Jeff's face turned a deeper red. "Hey, I just did what anyone else would do for a mate in that situation."

Kurt laughed. "Will you stop being so modest and just tell me the story?" He sighed. "I've said this so many times tonight… I'm betting this won't be the last."

Jeff's cinnamon eyes flashed as he smirked. "Nah, it's not modesty, but I'll let you judge."

* * *

><p>"<em>Blaine, are you… are you okay?" Jeff frowned in concern. Blaine had been sitting on the edge of his bed for the past hour at least, forehead resting on his knees, hands clasped tightly around his shins. "Can I do anything?"<em>

_Blaine looked up, his bloodshot eyes dead, and shook his head forcefully before resuming his rocking._

"_Is something wrong? You don't have to tell me. Just nod and I'll leave you alone…" Jeff trailed hesitantly, praying Blaine wouldn't take him up on that offer._

_But Blaine didn't respond, and Jeff let out a small sigh of relief._

"_You must be hungry," the blonde kept pressing. "Mum just sent me a heap of food from home… I've got Tim Tams, I've got proper chocolate…"_

_Blaine groaned at the sound of food, one hand kneading his temples, other arm moving to clutch his stomach. Jeff's own stomach knotted and he moved next to Blaine, rubbing small circles gently into his back._

"_She sent me some Vegemite too. I know you Americans can't stand it, but I've always found it helps whenever I feel bad…"_

_Blaine lifted his head up with one hand, squinting against the harsh light of his floor lamp. "No," he whispered hoarsely, before curling in on himself again._

"_Blaine, I know we aren't exactly close yet… But you need to eat something. Food's pretty important. You're smart, you should know that."_

"_I can't." Blaine whimpered into his legs._

_Jeff got up from the bed and crouched in front of Blaine, worried eyes probing him. Blaine's face was so white that snow would look grey in comparison, and his lips held the whitest shade of green. "Is it your diabetes? Do you need me to get the nurse?"_

_Blaine pursed his lips. "No," he finally forced out. "I'll be okay. Just leave me alone, Jeff, please."_

"_But Blaine…"_

"_NO."_

_There was obviously nothing more Jeff could say. He picked himself up off the floor, poured Blaine a glass of water and put it on his desk before jumping back on his own bed and flipping on the TV._

_About half an hour had passed when Blaine suddenly lurched upwards and ran out the room. Jeff looked on in confusion. Then it clicked._

"_Bloody hell!" _

_Jeff hurried out their shared room to the bathroom, his footsteps echoing harder and faster than an Irish River Dance. He shoved open the door, heart leaping through his mouth, eyes raking the underside of the stall doors for signs of life, ears pricking uncomfortably at the sound of muffled retching._

"_Oh, Blaine." A mop of black curls hung over the bowl of a toilet, hazel eyes streaming. Jeff tried to calm his breathing as he knelt down behind Blaine, hands gripping his shoulders and holding him upright as he slumped sideways. "Are you finished?"_

_Blaine hissed an assent and Jeff lay him down gently, grabbing a wad of toilet paper. He ran it under the water and hurried back into the stall, softly sponging the sheen of sweat glittering on Blaine's head. "Blaine, mate, we have a bathroom next door to us. Why the hell did you come all the way here?"_

_Blaine shivered violently. "Didn't want to worry you." He croaked. "Water?"_

_Jeff shook his head. "Sorry. Bottles are all back in our room."_

"_Wes? David?"_

"_I'm really sorry, Blaine, they both went home for the weekend. We can call them if you want, but my mobile's all the way back in the dorm."_

_Blaine shook again. Jeff watched one lone tear trek its way down the inside of Blaine's nose. It was quickly followed by another and before they knew it a river had paved its course down Blaine's face. "Blaine, I'm going to hug you now, okay?" Jeff hushed, pulling him tightly. "Can you stand? You'll be more comfortable back in our room…"_

"_No… No, Jeffy… No moving…" Blaine whined breathlessly. "Sick."_

"_What, now, again?" Jeff panicked. Blaine's face slackened though, and his eyelids began to droop. Not wanting to allow his friend to fall unconscious on a tiled floor, Jeff scooped up the older boy and carried him fireman style back to their dorm._

_Once inside, Jeff worked quickly, placing Blaine on his own bed before pulling the covers back and resettling the smaller boy. He grabbed a bucket, a stack of tissues, toothbrush and toothpaste and a water bottle, placing them beside Blaine's bed._

"_Blaine… Are you going to hate me if I call the nurse?" Jeff whispered, grabbing his phone to text Nick for some help._

_Blaine was fast asleep. But as Jeff's eyes scanned the room, they focused on a clear plastic box that was usually hidden in the top drawer of Blaine's bedside table – his diabetes supplies. Jeff remembered Blaine showing him some sort of machine the day he got back from the hospital – he couldn't remember exactly what the numbers meant, but he'd watched Blaine test his blood every day since. So, drawing in a very shaky breath, Jeff pricked Blaine's finger and squeezed some blood onto a strip, counting down from 10 with the machine._

_LO._

_LO. LO. LO. The word kept repeating in Jeff's mind. LO. LO._

_**Low**__._

_So, Blaine's blood sugar was scarily low. That wasn't good, that much Jeff knew, and he hurriedly sent out another text, asking Nick to fetch the nurse. Then he squatted next to Blaine, squeezing his shoulder tightly, trying to wake him._

"_Blaine! Blaine! Wake up! Please, dear God, wake up! You arsehole, wake UP!" But nothing worked._

_Then Jeff's eyes settled on a small pot of Daylesford Honey he'd received in his package. Honey had stacks of sugar in it, right? So, acting completely on impulse, he dipped in his finger and rubbed it all over the inside of Blaine's mouth._

_Barely a minute had passed when Blaine started to stir._

"_Blaine! Can you hear me? I have Red Vines!"_

_Blaine's eyebrow twitched._

_Jeff fed him some more honey. "Where the HELL is Nick and that nurse?"_

_Then Blaine giggled. "Jeffy, I thought Nicky was your boyfriend, why is he sleeping with nurses? Is there a really hot murse here? I really want a murse, can I get a murse? Are _you_ a murse, Jeffy?"_

* * *

><p>"I did <em>NOT<em> say that!" Blaine hurriedly interjected.

Jeff rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, you clearly have the best recollection of that nightmare."

Shock had opened Kurt's jaws like an inmate with a stolen key opens his cell door. "Jeff, please explain to me, how is that _not_ saving his life? And Blaine… do I even want to know why that happened? Or why you wanted Jeff to tell me _that_ story? Or how in holy Gaga's name you are still alive?"

"Your Momma," Thad said loudly from across the table in the silence.

Wes grinned. "Thad, I think you're doing it wrong…"

"Your gavels then!"

David shook his head. "Thad, you do realise you just insinuated an intimate relationship between yourself and Justice. Or was it Mercy? Whatever floats your boat."

"YOU MOCK ME, SIR!" Thad stood up, outraged.

Jeff laughed. "It's a kangaroo court!" he muttered aside to Nick, and the boys burst out laughing.

"Why must we always use the exact same arguments every time?" Wes shook his head in amusement.

"HaESHOO!" Blaine's sneeze brought them back to reality.

Kurt sighed, standing up and pulling a lethargic Blaine to his feet. "Come on, sickie, let's get you into bed. We'll see you in the morning!" He called out to the group. The sound of their rabble followed them all the way upstairs to the dormitories.

* * *

><p><strong>Oh, dear. And this is the exact reason why you should not write when you've had virtually no sleep in the last 4 days.<strong>

**I worked Tuesday morning, then went to a sleepover shift that night. Meaning I got maybe 6 hours sleep, but not good sleep because you're paranoid that something will happen and someone will need you overnight. For those whom this makes no sense, I'm a disability support worker and sleepover shifts are basically like being on call overnight, though I've only had to work during my sleep period once so far. **

**Right. Then Wednesday night, when we were away, some of my friends got a wee bit drunk. And as a completely sober first aider who, despite being shy and quiet and nice, actually does have a fair amount of authority when required... Well, I was up til 0330 making sure everyone was still alive. And slept with a friend of mine to make sure she was okay overnight, but that was for 3 hours and I woke up everytime she moved. Then Thursday we played Mafia and were up til 2. Well done.**

**But I screwed my back up yet again, and was meant to babysit my sister tonight. So I didn't go to the party and I wrote this for you instead!**

**I also went horseriding while in woop-woop. It was amazing. I haven't been in so long! One of my friends fell off, but she was completely fine and she got straight back on and I'm SO PROUD OF HER! And she will hopefully at some stage read this too.**

******Also, see what I mean? Very self-indulgent. But I think... I hope!... that it's okay and you don't all hate me for really just writing for myself. I like a Jeff/Blaine bromance. And Neff, not that you see much. Also, to those who said they loved Wevid: Me too, guys, me too. I absolutely adore writing for them, their bantering is fun and they have a bromance to rival Turk and JD's. So rest assured, they will definitely stay in!  
><strong>

**Right. So. Thank you again to everyone who has read, especially to those who have favourited/alerted and reviewed! I'm combining shout outs for two weeks here (because I didn't have time on Tuesday). So. Shout outs to: Gracieling,** **riker-rocky-ross-lynch****lover795, FallingThroughWonderland (with dots between each word), Different Child, Lalice of Roses, Brook-Lucas-Fan-23 AND fluttershy234. You guys are wonderful.**

**My usual disclaimer and asking people what they want from this story. A reminder that I own nothing except my imagination and my dreams.  
><strong>

**If you're still reading this far, I'm also planning what I'm doing after this... So basically, this will be a collection of stories and flashbacks and stuff UP TO Silly Love Songs. I'll start up another fic BASED ON THIS ONE at some point in time, which will be stories based on episodes or periods of time after Silly Love Songs.**

**Right. Sorry for waffling. Like I said, no sleep. So I shall end it here. Thanks again!**

**Love me? Hate me? Want the Babel fish in my ear to do something screwy so I am unable to write in English any more so you can't read it? Let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	10. When the World Has Dealt Its Cards

"Blaine, I don't get it. I know you had no obligation to, but why didn't you tell me?" Kurt asked. He was sitting cross-legged on the end of Blaine's bed, while Blaine was lying on his back, hands crossed underneath his pillow.

"I didn't want to worry you." Blaine leant on his clichéd answer, but Kurt wasn't having a bar of it.

"No, that's not it. You knew you'd have to eventually, you pretty much said that in the coffee shop this afternoon. I know you work really hard keeping up that wall of perfect dapperness, but this is out of your control, so I don't think it's that…" Kurt thought aloud. "So just… why?"

Blaine rubbed his nose almost absentmindedly, arguments running amok through his mind like petulant children in a proverbial confectionary. "Well… that's partly it." He spoke softly, eyes flicking at Kurt's before very quickly fixing themselves somewhere over his shoulder. "But this disease… While it's a part of me, it's a weakness. It either forces people to look after me, or forces them away from me. Either way, I get treated differently because of that. You've noticed how Wes and David are always more cautious over me than any of the others? And just… I've done enough to screw this up, I honestly can't believe you're still my friend after everything that's happened, I didn't need more to push you away." His voice wavered, cracking on the final syllable, and Blaine rolled over, burying his face in his pillow. "Why don't you hate me?" He spat, full of self-loathing.

A whimper of sympathy escaped Kurt's throat. "Blaine, you need to listen to me right now. I don't know what happened to you in your past, and I won't force you to relive it any time soon – especially not tonight when you're obviously sick and only this week you had your heart ripped out of your chest." Kurt drew a deep breath, trying to steady his voice and ignore the twinge in his own heart. "You are a brilliant person. You're happy, you're friendly, you're so strong. I can't convince you that you are worthy, not just of all of our friendship but also of our respect – but I'm happy to wait until you've found that out for yourself."

"I don't deserve you." Blaine wailed into his mattress. "Kurt, why are you doing this to me? You can do so much better than me. Please, don't torment me with the false hope that I can ever be enough for you."

Kurt gasped, shaking his head. "Holy crap. Wevid were right."

"Wevid? What's Wevid? And what were they right about?"

Kurt exhaled quickly through his nose, his mouth raising in a wry smile. "Wes and David. I guess it's a New Directions thing, they give their couples names, probably to make summarising them easier to outsiders… And they told me pretty much exactly what you just said… Though I don't think they've got any idea why, either…"

"Why what?"

Kurt shook his head. "Why you always put absolutely everyone before yourself, even at the risk of your health or sanity. And why you lock absolutely everything away."

Blaine rolled to his side, eyes squeezed shut. "I don't want to pretend everything's fine, Kurt. But I have to." His voice was barely a whisper. "It hurts too much to do anything else."

Kurt hesitated, then put a hand on his shoulder. "What does, Blaine?"

"Everything." Blaine broke. "Every day I wake up, I do my business, I go around with a smile on my face. If I don't smile, people ask what's wrong. And then I stop and think about all the absolute crap that is my life and I just can't deal with that. And then I show this hideous side of me, this needy whingy selfish pile of crap. I don't want to feel so false, I really want that happy person to be me. So why can't it be, Kurt? Why can't I just be the dapper person that everyone loves? Why does that whole illusion have to be just that – an illusion?"

"Blaine…" Kurt lay down next to his friend as the whole bed shook with tears. "There are two sides to every person. You _are_ that bubbly friendly nutjob. But you have to realise that this is part of you too. You just don't have to let it dominate you."

"Dammit, Kurt, can you not be so fucking perfect? Just for one moment, please? We aren't all like you, you know. We aren't all so confident."

Kurt snorted sardonically, sitting back upright. "Honey, you honestly think I don't have these moments? Or that I don't have my own faults? I'm a _diva_, for Christ sake. But really, what do you want from me? Do you want me to get angry? Because if you need an argument, I think we've had enough drama for the day."

The room quivered with tension, vibrating with each breath from the boys. Then Blaine snaked a hand out from underneath the covers and grabbed Kurt's. "I want a friend." His voice was hoarse, breaking on alternate syllables. "No, I need a friend. I want… something else. But what we want and what we get are two completely different things."

All his bottled up anger rushed out in Kurt's next breath and he found himself lying down again on top of the doona, fingers lacing with Blaine's. "You've had a crazy week. It's not fair on you right now. Believe me, I want it just as much as you do, if not more. But I don't want you believing I just said this to make you feel better. So… friends?"

Blaine snuggled closer to Kurt. "Okay, I can live with that for now. Besides, you need to see just how flawed I am, see how many mistakes I've made, before you can really make that decision."

"Oh, Blaine." Kurt ran his free hand through Blaine's loose curls, inhaling quietly and opening his mouth.

_You're so mean when you talk_

_About yourself; you are wrong._

_Change the voices in your head,_

_Make them like you instead._

Kurt smoothed away a few of Blaine's tears, his wavering voice much softer than usual, trying to convince the boy of his worth through the song.

_So complicated, look how big you'll make it,_

_Filled with so much hatred, such a tired game._

_It's enough, I've done all I can think of,_

_Chased down all my demons, see you do the same._

Blaine's breathing began to even out and become heavier, his body melting into the sheets as much-needed sleep finally decided to steal him away again.

Wes and David smiled as they saw the two boys on the bed, slowly walking in and effortlessly harmonising with Kurt.

Kurt kept singing, singing for Blaine, singing for himself, singing for all his friends out there, for all the people who needed it. His experiences, his thoughts, his emotions echoed in his notes and reverberated through their hearts.

_Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel_

_Like you're less than, less than perfect._

_Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel_

_Like you're nothing, you are perfect_

_To me._

* * *

><p><strong>Okay. Not quite where I was expecting this... I was thinking I'd tell a bit about Blaine's past, but it sort of became his present. No matter, I don't feel too bad about this chapter. It's a little choppy, but I'm not really sure how to fix that... I haven't really written angst before. Sickfics I can write 'til the cows come home, but angst is completely new. It was a little hard as well, I've tried to make Blaine as real and honest as I can. But it's based on what I go through (I have obsessive-compulsive personality disorder) and I actually don't feel a whole lot at all really, so I don't know how well that gets across to people...<strong>

**Not that I'm saying it's healthy. This year I've been working really hard on actually feeling things and gaining control over my emotions without having to lock them away and go numb. It's hard, but it's definitely possible and definitely worth it. And if any of you reading this ever need some help, whether it's someone to talk to or advice or whatever, I'm here. You can PM me, you can send me an ask on Tumblr (pi-on-a-skateboard . tumblr . com, without the spaces).**

**And yes, I do know that Klaine are singing Perfect on Wednesday. No, that's not why I put it in here. I just think the lyrics fit perfectly. Hehehe, really witty Steph. Yeah, shut up. It's nearly 0200. You have to be up in 4.5 hours for work. Ugh. Silly babysitting!**

**Yes. So slightly less rambling tonight?**

**Shout outs to Different Child, riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795 and Brook-Lucas-Fan-23. Thanks to everyone so far who has read, favourited, alerted and reviewed! Especially to the reviews, they really motivate me to get writing. It's so much easier when I know people read this and appreciate it - even more so when they tell me what they want in the story! And constructive criticism is always nice, like I've said many times before, I'm always looking to improve! :D  
><strong>

**So. Love me? Hate me? Want Perfect to be released early so that I collapse and suffer a myocardial infarction or stroke of some form and can't write for you any more? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D  
><strong>


	11. Pillars of Salt and Pillars of Sand

Kurt felt his lips tugging upwards at the edges as he glanced down at the sleeping boy in his arms. All the moments leading to holding Blaine, every dream Kurt could remember from the last month or so… None of them had been like this. Yet here he lay, Blaine's back pressing softly against his chest with his deep breaths – and Kurt wasn't complaining. Not at all.

Until David coughed and Kurt jumped, trying and failing to extricate his right arm without disturbing the sophomore. He'd completely forgotten that Wes and David were in the room, even if they had been singing with him only moments before.

"So, uh…" David tried not to look over at the bed. "Right. Well."

Wes elbowed him. "I think what David is _trying_ to say," he furrowed his eyebrows, "is that we should decide just how heavily we want to feature you at Breadstix tomorrow. Seriously, Kurt, why have we not heard you sing like that before? That was incredible."

Kurt, having finally sat up, shrugged and crossed his arms. "Broadway is what's expected of me. Doesn't mean I can't try anything else. But as for tomorrow, as much as we make it up as we go along, we're going to have a hard enough time working out how to fit the songs around Blaine and whatever he's capable of."

"True…" Wes trailed off in thought. "Well, we shall see." His face brightened. "But for now… assuming Blaine will be out for the night, that pretty much gives us free reign over his DVD collection. Is there anything you desperately want to do or watch? Or shall we just choose something while you get yourself ready for bed? Make sure the night wardens know you're here, too."

"Whatever." Kurt stood up slowly, not wanting to leave Blaine behind, choking back a laugh as he started to snore. "Just, please, no more Starkid. As drop-dead gorgeous and talented as Darren Criss may be, there's only so many times you can hear _Hermione Can't Draw_."

David chuckled, pulling some red-packeted lollies out of his bag. "I take it you won't want any Red Vines then!"

* * *

><p>"Ooo ake eee eel like umm livi a cheenay cheeem…" Kurt sang happily while brushing his teeth.<p>

"Oh, hey Kurt!" Nick called out as he and Jeff walked in, moving to the neighbouring sinks. "You sound happy about something!"

Kurt only grinned in response, not wanting to give too much away. And in all honesty, not a whole lot had changed… But Blaine did want him back, so in a sense they were beginning to move further and further away from the 'just best friends' category… That was always a good sign.

Nick nudged Jeff, catching the dreamy look in Kurt's eyes. "$10 Klaine is finally a go?"

"Nah, I'm actually with you on this one." Jeff muttered to Nick, shaking his head, then turned to the boy on his other side. "How is Blaine, Kurt? Still sick as a dog?"

Kurt's smile widened at the mention of that name. "He's asleep, actually. Wes and David are worried though, last time I checked his voice was seriously fading. I think when I left they actually began praying we wouldn't have to cancel tomorrow's performance…"

"Strewth!" Jeff spat out his toothpaste. "Nah, she'll be right. It always works out in the end. I've seen Blaine worse than that, he'll bounce back; you're gonna have a hard time restraining him tomorrow."

"How did you deal with it?" Kurt asked, serious face on again. It had just begun to sink in – how sick Blaine really is, how much time and effort he put in every single day just to stay alive, how every moment he'd be wondering about his blood sugar or how much food he was eating or did he overdose on the insulin and having to rely so much on other people… And now Kurt was going to have to learn how not just to be there for his (_more-than-a-friend-but-not-quite-yet-a_) boyfriend, but how to save his life, what signs to look out for, how to tell if he was in trouble and what to do. And what if Blaine couldn't ask for help? What if he couldn't tell him what he needed? What if he just slowly slipped away while he was asleep because you can't hear a stutter in a person that's not talking?

The wave of thoughts hit Kurt hard and he clutched the sink, sliding to the ground. "Shit."

"Hey, hey, hey." Nick and Jeff moved quickly to either side of the boy, sitting with shoulders touching, each putting an arm around his back so that the older boy was supported. "We've all been there," Jeff smiled sympathetically.

"Dude, it's terrifying," Nick agreed. "I know he hates it but we do worry about him! And most of us have never shared a room with him, we can't even begin to comprehend what he has to go through."

Jeff squeezed Kurt's arm, sending him warmth, trying to gauge the boy's emotions. "I did share a room with him. And yeah, there were countless nights when I didn't sleep, when I sat with him waiting for the nurse or yet another ambulance, or even just listening to him splutter because he was crook yet again. But most of the time Blaine knows what he's doing. Usually he can recognise what's going on and treat it before it gets too late. Today probably happened just because he's finally getting that flu that's been running around."

"But you guys always seem so in control, you never worry about it normally." Kurt gasped, trying to still his breathing. And that was true. How could they go about their everyday lives, just ignoring the fact that at any moment in time Blaine could just drop to the ground and not wake up? And when stuff like that happened – how could they react so calmly, so orderly?

"Breathe, Kurt." Nick ordered him. "We've been dealing with this for just over a year now. Of course we worry about him – the Warblers are a family. I know it's a shock. But it gets so much easier once you start getting used to it."

"Friends really help too," Jeff assured him. "The first few times anything happened, I'd get to Nick as soon as I could. Just having someone there really helped keep me calm and in control… Blaine is your Nick, unfortunately. But we're here too – Nick's been through most of it with me, Wes and David know what they're doing. My mobile is _always_ on, so we're always just a phone call away. And you're a lucky bastard, we actually care about him so much that we'll always pick up."

Kurt stood up again, a little shaky but most of his worries he could keep abated by his side. "Thank you. Thank you so much. Sorry about that… episode."

"No worries!" Jeff laughed, as he and Nick pulled Kurt into a hug. "Just hang in there. Now go piss off to your boyfriend and we'll see you at brekkie tomorrow!"

"Not my boyfriend." Kurt giggled as he collected his items and skipped out the door. "Yet."

Jeff smiled. "Aw. They're so cute."

"Not as cute as you!" Nick teased. "Have I ever told you how much I love it when you speak Australian?"

"I thought I had more going for me than just that?" He recounted Nick's earlier words, flirting back.

"Well, you do have that awesome sweater." Nick knew just what to say to wind him up.

"The correct term is jumper, I think you'll find."

"Sweat-pants."

"Trackies."

"Flash-light."

"Torch."

"Tomato."

"Tomato."

"Guys, would you mind _not_ having vocal sex in the bathroom?" A voice cried out from the stalls. "Some of us are actually trying to take a dump here."

"Sorry, mate." Jeff cried out as Nick tugged him back into the hall. "Now, where were we?"

* * *

><p><strong>Ending on Neff tonight, which is strange. It's funny, I'd originally planned to have this set purely in Blaine's room but I guess you'll have to get that tomorrow night instead.<strong>

**I actually have nothing to do tomorrow. Apart from returning some stuff to the library. I don't know what I'm going to do all day. Probably lie in the foetal position and rock and moan :P Or I could just write some more for you... And I know what I want to get done, so I think I can actually make that happen rather than just drag this out further.**

**I can't believe it's at 11 chapters. And even though comparatively it's not many, I have... I think 38 reviews** **now. And yes, I'm immature and VERY easily excitable, but considering the (lack of) time I've had to read or write the last 2 years (and keep in mind I study Biomed, very science-heavy, not Arts)**** I'm really happy with this! And I hope this chapter lives up to your standards... Baring in mind it is just a filler.**

**Oh. I was at work the other day (literally just after I wrote chapter 9 with Jeff saving the day and all) and one of my clients was diabetic. I tested her sugar and the machine read LO. It was amusing. She was fine, apparently I hadn't put enough blood on the strip the first time and she was actually closer to 4.2, but we poured a heap of sugar on her porridge and she was all good!**

**Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, subscribed, etc. Shout outs to Falling. Through. Wonderland, Different Child, inthelookingglass, and riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover23****, with a special shout out to xXLittle Rose AngelXx, who is a lovely person and deserves all the love and attention she can get!**

**Love me? Hate me? Want me to do The Time Warp again? And again? And again? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	12. Badger Badger Badger Mushroom MUSHROOM

"Hey, kid! No elevator!" blasted from the television as Kurt pranced back into Blaine's bedroom. He glanced at David, who was curled up on a mattress between the two beds, a mess of various snacks spread out in front of him.

"What are we watching?" Kurt asked, ducking to grab himself a mini Kit-Kat. "And where's Wes?"

"Right here!" Wes said, materialising out of thin air yet again, dressed in a black wife-beater and a pair of jade flannel pants and _holy cow is that a gavel print?_ "Popcorn?" The Asian grinned, holding out a large bowl, plonking down on the empty bed.

Kurt shook his head in wonder, perching awkwardly at the end of Blaine's bed. "You guys really are prepared. Do you do this often?"

"Operation Keep-Blaine-Alive-Til-The-Morning-When-It's-Not-Our-Problem-Any-Longer? Unfortunately, yes." David pointed the remote at the TV and paused it. "We'll test his blood sugar round 2 in the morning, if not before then. He'll be fine, Kurt, don't worry, we haven't called an ambulance for him since… since we met you, actually."

"And that was what, 3 months ago?" Crap. Three months without calling an ambulance was an _achievement_? What the hell had he gotten himself into?

"Damn, Africa, don't scare the poor boy!" Wes laughed. "I think the movie will do that for us."

"I think your obsession with Mean Girls and gavels probably does that already, Hong Kong." David bantered back. "Speaking of which, will Sophie be joining us tonight?"

"Sophie? You _name_ them? That really brings a whole new level to, 'is that a gavel in your pocket', doesn't it?" The words flew from Kurt's mouth before he clapped both hands over his face, turning crimson and burying his head in one of Blaine's crumpled blankets.

David choked as his rapid bursts of laughter congested in their rush out his throat. There was a loud bang as Wes fell off the bed, causing the three boys to laugh even harder.

"Don't make me laugh, I'm PISSING!" David flailed helplessly on the ground.

"What are these? Tears? No! Wes, you don't cry!" Wes gasped, wiping tears of mirth from his cheeks. "You're killing us!"

"You'd think killing people would make them like you but it doesn't." Kurt amazingly managed to deadpan. "It only makes them dead." He gave in to his own fit of laughter, sinking to the ground with his two baboons of friends.

Then Blaine sneezed and they all jumped. "We… should possibly try to be a bit quieter…" Kurt suggested. "Sorry, Wes, I didn't mean to be so crude."

Wes grinned. "Crudeness is sarcasm's best friend, Kurt. It really is no problem. Owwww, my butt hurts…" He pulled himself back on the bed, cringing. "Can you try next time to let me remain on the bed? It would be much appreciated!"

Kurt shuffled over to a second mattress, next to David, leaning back against Blaine's bedside table. "Under the threat of your 'gavel'" (yes, Kurt is very much experienced in the use of vocal inverted commas) "I don't think I have much of a choice…"

Wes' face crumpled theatrically. "How very dare you! The gavels are my friends! None of you understand me like those long, hard bits of wood!" He cracked up again.

David just shook his head. "It's okay, Kurt, I know he doesn't seem it but he is straight and not dangerous." He stage-whispered. "Wes, shut up, I'm turning Panic Room back on."

The boys settled into their respective bedding, eyes glued to the screen as they became engrossed in the thriller.

* * *

><p>Kurt's hands clenched around his sleeping bag as on the screen Sarah's toes did the same. The little girl's blood sugar level had dropped so low that she had began to start seizing. "Shit, shit, shit, shit." Kurt muttered his little mantra.<p>

Apparently his whole body had reacted to the scene, because Wes had suddenly whipped his head round and David was reaching around for Kurt's shoulder. "Keep in mind it's a film," David whispered. "It's a very good portrayal – but not necessarily the most realistic."

"I won't lie to you, this has happened to us before." Wes muttered, sliding onto the floor next to Kurt. "But only once. He'd been low the entire day, we unfortunately pushed him a little too hard in rehearsal and he dropped. He wasn't conscious. But we gave him the glucagon straight away and he bounced back up 5 minutes later."

"I'm glad you remember that complete humiliation," a hoarse voice floated from above them, words slurred slightly with fatigue. "Ugh. What time is it? And why the hell are you still trying to scare the crap out of Kurt?"

"It's about midnight," David answered. "Go back to sleep. Kurt's okay, right?"

There was suddenly a warm hand on Kurt's neck and he squeezed it, running his fingers over the soft skin of the palm and the contrasting guitar-callused fingertips. "Y-Yeah. I'm good. I'm learning."

Blaine coughed weakly. "It's a film. Only bit they get perfect is later, when they talk to her in the room. That echo-ey stuff? That's what low feels like. Like when you're about to sleep but not and you just kinda say stuff and float along and pray that it makes sense in someone else's mind cos it sure as hell doesn't in your own. Like dinosaurs. Who came up with that, man?" He yawned. "Don't scare Kurt. Can you wake me at 2?"

Kurt nodded, and the fingers in his hand slackened as Blaine was pulled again into sleep.

Before they knew it half an hour had passed and Kurt was rubbing his eyes as the credits began to roll. "Why didn't she just inject them with insulin?" He spat ferociously. "She could have stopped that so much sooner! And he could have escaped and they wouldn't be dead and ugh!"

"Already a pro, are we, Kurt?" Wes gently teased him. "If you really want proper reasoning, get Blaine to explain it to you tomorrow. But at least you got to see your first glucagon injection. That was done really well, keeping in mind how old the film is."

"Fine, fine." He glanced down at David, who had curled himself up tightly around his leg, already asleep. "I… don't think I can sleep right now. Not after that. What else has he got?"

Wes grinned wickedly. "Well, we have to test Blaine in a couple of hours… Have you seen Anchorman?" He swapped the DVDs in the player.

"That film is worse than the time the raccoon got in the copier!" Kurt paraphrased, returning the grin. "Take me to Pleasure Town, Wes."

* * *

><p><strong>Oh, God. What have I done? I am soooooo sorry for this chapter. This isn't even proper crack. I'm going to blame it on the heat. It's like 33 degrees (that's <strong>**92F) here. Well, it was, anyhow. It's cooled down a bit now but still.**

**I'll have better quality stuff next chapter (which should be up tomorrow). I'm thinking either Blaine-backstory or something from his point of view. Or maybe more Klaine fluff. We'll see.  
><strong>

**I do not own Glee, Panic Room, Anchorman, Mean Girls or anything else you might deem familiar.**

**Shout-outs to Brook-Lucas-Fan-23, riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795, gleekinpink, Different Child, Falling. Through. Wonderland and xXLittle Rose AngelXx. You guys are amazing. I really really appreciate the reviews, they help me keep track of the writing and they seriously are my muse. Thanks again to everyone reading too!**

**Love me? Hate me? Want me to get the Oompa Loompa song stuck in my head so I'm always bouncing up and down, making it extremely difficult for me to type and publish? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	13. Glaciers Melting In the Dead of Night

Kurt sat bolt upright as the floor lamp clicked on above him. He felt a strong hand on his chest, gently restraining him.

"Easy there, now," Wes whispered, unable to stop a grin sneaking its way across his face. "You, uh… you fell asleep."

Kurt grunted, trying to rub some sleep out of his eyes. "Apparently." He cleared his throat, taking in his dank surroundings. "How's Blaine?"

"Still sleeping." Wes shrugged, muting the soft sounds from the television. "I was just about to check his sugar levels. You want to try waking him?"

"How desperately do you need him awake?" Kurt's voice shook as he bit back giggles, remembering how Blaine had been roused earlier.

Wes was smiling too. "I've tested him hundreds of times before, so don't stress. Try not to wake David," he added, as Kurt took a much larger breath than normal.

"Blaine. Blaine, Dalton's just had a delivery of puppies, which one do you want?" Kurt climbed onto the bed, kneeling by Blaine's head.

_Snore_.

"Blaine. Freshly made fudgecakes downstairs!"

_A sneeze_.

"Blaine! A mob outside is lynching Lauren Lopez! We have to go save her!"

The bed shook as Blaine barked a cough and promptly began to snore again. Kurt shrugged, then rejoined Wes on the floor.

"Don't worry about it, Kurt." He opened the small black kit. "Now, I'm assuming you're going to want to learn how to do this. Do you want me to step you through it? Or just watch me?"

Kurt swallowed heavily. "I don't know if I can. But I want to do it."

"You deserve so much more credit than you give yourself." Wes clapped him on the back. "Right. Put a strip in the machine, with that white side up – that's where the blood will go." Wes yawned, eyes fluttering. "Sorry. Okay, see that long black thing with the white tips?" He indicated with his finger. "Pull that narrow white tip back, that'll load the lancet."

"Lancet?"

"The tiny needle that pricks his finger." Wes yawned again. "Sorry, Kurt. Now put the thick end against one of his fingers, doesn't matter which, and push the button."

Kurt shuddered as he felt it deploy and squeezed the warm thumb, pushing a tiny amount of blood out. He smeared it against the stick and remained completely still as the machine began to count down.

**40**.

"Damn," Wes breathed. "Let's get him up."

Kurt grinned mischievously. "Blaine! If you don't get up this very instant, I'll say Ni! I swear to God, I'll do it! Ni! Ni! NI!"

Wes stared, the reference clearly having gone straight over his head, but in typical Wes fashion joined in. "NI! NI! NI!"

Finally the sleeping boy woke, arms flailing comically as he batted away the two boys surrounding him. "Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!" He croaked.

Kurt began to laugh at the worried and confused look painted all over Wes' face. "It's okay, Wes, he's obviously coherent enough to quote."

"You guys are strange, you know that?" Wes stammered.

"Hi," Kurt deadpanned, holding out a hand. "You must be pot. I'm kettle. It's lovely to meet you."

Wes swatted Kurt's hand half-heartedly. "Blaine, your BSL's 40."

"We got any soda?" Blaine squinted at his friends, hand scrabbling along his bedside table for his glasses. "Holy cow, Wes, you look like I feel." He gasped as the room came into focus.

Wes yawned yet again. "Sorry. Yeah, well, someone had to stay up." He chucked a can of 7-Up at the bed. "Drink."

"Wes, you need to sleep." Kurt told him. "I got an hour or so. I'll watch Blaine."

Wes considered for a moment. "No, you're performing more than me tomorrow, you need the sleep more."

"Why don't you rotate?" Blaine suggested. "I'll have to test a couple of hours after I've come back up anyway."

"Yeah, Wes, get some sleep." Kurt agreed. "It's okay. I've got this."

They heard another yawn from the boy. "Fine," he gave in. "If anything happens, wake me up. Don't put anything in his mouth if he's not conscious, just use the honey – second drawer." He climbed into bed with his eyes shut.

"Hey, Wes?" Kurt called to him.

"Yeah?"

"You're going to be a great doctor or teacher or whatever it is you decide on doing."

"Thanks, Kurt." Wes' breathing slowed as he began gently snuffling.

"So… what now?" Kurt turned to Blaine, sitting next to him on the bed.

"Well, I can't go to sleep until I'm above 100." Blaine rasped, shivering violently.

"Are you cold?" Kurt pressed his fingers to Blaine's forehead. "You don't have a fever…" He glanced down at Blaine's quaking hands.

"It's because my sugar levels are screwy," Blaine told him, wrapping the sheets closer round himself. "Usually I get hot flushes when I drop, but sometimes it just makes me freeze."

_Ah, screw it_, Kurt thought. _He's sick, he's cold, any normal person would do it, it won't be awkward… I hope._ "Shove over, Blaine." He climbed into bed behind the boy, wrapping his warm arms around his body, trying to slow the frequency and force of the incessant shudders.

Blaine dropped his head, nuzzling into Kurt's neck. "Thank you," he whispered. "You know, you don't have to do this."

Kurt pulled him closer. "You're my bo-est friend," he saved. "Any normal person would do the exact same thing." He rested his chin on Blaine's head, trying to increase contact surface area.

Blaine's shaking begun to slowly settle down. "Why do you bother, Kurt? Why are you still here? You can walk out at any time, you know. You don't have any responsibility towards me. I don't want to burden you."

Kurt sighed, running his hands up and down Blaine's arms to warm them up. "What on earth makes you think I don't want to look after you? Or that you aren't worth the effort?"

Blaine coughed, setting the empty can on the dresser. "Do you want an answer? There's a few stories… from when I was little… that I can tell you. Just promise me you won't think any differently of me after you've heard them, okay?"

Kurt leant back against the headboard, open arms inviting Blaine back in. "I'm always here for you, Blaine. You don't have to tell me anything. But I promise I'll love you just as much no matter what you tell me."

Blaine drew in a sharp breath, the next bout of shivering hitting him full force. "You know, whenever I look back on this, I just remember telling people the story, rather than actually living the event. That's how far I've dissociated myself from it…" He smiled bitterly, his eyes humourless. "Well, I was about 8…"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Nawww Wes. I may or may not be in love with him. Le sigh.**

**I am sooooooooo tired. I had work this morning, but it meant getting up at 0430 to leave at 0500. I love my job, I really do, and it's an easy house to work at, but sometimes I just like having that extra time in the morning, you know? Though, on that note, I think I wrote a good 300 words just on the train this morning.**

**If you're wondering about the quotes today... Well, first of all, you need to get out from under that rock and get yourself educated. Go see Monty Python and The Holy Grail (which, I'll add here, I do not own, nor Glee or anything else recognisable). It's classic, it's ridiculously random and hilarious and amazing. Go! Watch! Now!**

**Glee tonight! Yay! I'm actually really really looking forward to seeing how they do this. It sounds amazing. And it's quite close to my heart. And, apparently, Finn becomes less of a douche tonight, which is great!**

**Wow. I'm so tired I can't think of much to waffle on about tonight...**

**So. Again. Thank you to absolutely everyone who has read and subscribed, and especially to those who reviewed! I hit the 50 review mark last night! Which is just amazing, because I honestly thought I'd get maybe 3 people reading this and giving up on it. But most of you have stuck with me and I really really appreciate it! Oh. Shout-outs (whoops) to riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795, xXLittle Rose AngelXx, Brook-Lucas-Fan-23, Lalice of Roses, Different Child, ASiriuslyGleekyTimeLord and Falling. Through. Wonderland. Love you!  
><strong>

**So. Love me? Hate me? Want me to be trapped in a vaccuum with a Newton's Cradle until the balls stop moving? (STEPH YOUR NERDINESS IS SHOWING, DON'T TELL THEM YOU SPEAK PHYSICS LANGUAGE!) Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D  
><strong>


	14. The Devil's Turned to Dust

**Warning: adult themes**

* * *

><p>"I was 8 and... when…Kurt, I… I don't know if I can tell you." Blaine whispered into Kurt's chest, feeling the moisture from his breath rebound off Kurt's pyjamas and back to him.<p>

"That's okay, Blaine. You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with. I'm not that sort of person." Kurt ran his hands up Blaine's arms before meeting at his neck, beginning to massage it gently.

"N-N-No, Kurt. I don't know why it's so important for me to tell you. Probably it's just my crazy low blood sugar making me do crazy stuff. But I want to tell you." He sighed, dunking his head to avoid eye contact. "I'll need help though. Keep forcing me to tell you. Ask me questions. Whatever." Blaine gulped air, squeezing his eyes shut like he could shut off the visions inside his head like one turns off the TV. "Well, the earliest I can remember, for want of a better term, I was about 7…"

* * *

><p>"<em>That stinks!" Blaine's father roared. "What the <em>hell_ did you do that for?"_

_Blaine looked down at the vomit covering his father's shoes, rubbing his mouth weakly. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I didn't mean to, Daddy." He had been naughty. He had wrecked Daddy's shoes. If he was lucky he'd just get hit and not have to pay for them._

"_Now I have to go change my clothes." He spat. "You better be here when I get back."_

_Blaine's father stormed up the stairs, returning in a minute with a belt swinging loosely from his hand. "Bend over, Blaine."_

_Blaine did, but only because his breakfast had come to say hello in the rubbish bin._

"_You deserve to be punished. You know that, don't you?" He raised the belt._

"_Yes, Daddy." Blaine choked out. He didn't cry. Crying would only cause more pain, make him hit harder and longer. _

"_Good boy." He whipped the belt down. "No crying. You were wrong; you have to take your punishment like a man."_

* * *

><p>Kurt felt ill. So that explained why he didn't like being looked after. "Blaine…"<p>

Blaine shook his head. He had more to tell and wanted to get it over with, get it out as quickly as possible.

* * *

><p>"<em>Look, Mommy! I got a A+ on my spelling test!"<em>

"_That's nice." Blaine's mother never turned from the television. "Go play with your soldiers, or whatever it is you first-graders do nowadays."_

"_I'm in third grade, Mommy." Blaine said proudly. "And I gots an A+ on my test! Ms Albrecht was very happy with me, she told me herself!"_

"_Why are you still here?" His mother snapped. "You're interrupting my soap! Now, get!"_

* * *

><p>Blaine suddenly coughed and groaned. "Kurt. I'm dizz… I'm kinda dizzy." His stomach churned uncomfortably.<p>

"You're tired… Is it your blood sugar?" Kurt squinted at his watch. "It's barely been 20 minutes."

Blaine had already pulled his testing kit towards him, his fingertips numb, not daring to raise his head more than an inch from his pillow. "I don't need this to tell me. I need glucose."

Kurt sat up, looking around wildly. "Um…" He spotted a block of Hershey's lying near David's foot. "Chocolate? Will that do?"

Blaine cursed inwardly as his machine beeped. **35**. The soda earlier did nothing. Why was he still falling? "No, chocolate's low GI. Won't do anything. Second drawer there's candy."

Kurt rummaged through the desk, hoping his heart wasn't beating loud enough to wake the other boys. Why didn't the lemonade help earlier? Was it the stress of talking? "Oh. Here." He passed Blaine a packet of jelly beans.

"Thanks, K-Kurt." Blaine's hands shook and he struggled to pick them out of their packet.

"Need help?" Kurt squatted by Blaine's head, picking up a black jellybean. "How many do you need?"

"Six," Blaine told him, before he felt the lolly land in his mouth. "I…" He blushed, grateful for the darkness that would hide the change in colour from Kurt. "Thank you."

Kurt fed him the rest of the jellybeans and Blaine opened his mouth, determined to press on.

* * *

><p><em>Blaine slowly trudged home, his school report hanging from his left hand, attached to him only by his two smallest fingers, as if the paper itself was toxic waste that was slowly poisoning his body. Freshman year – the second time round – was nearly over, and he'd somehow managed to get a B in American History. He didn't want to even think about the consequences of that slip-up.<em>

_Once inside he dropped the report on the table, grunting his mother a hello, and ran to his room, trying frantically to rid himself of the stench of stale rum that had followed him from the kitchen. _

"_How did you do?" He asked his older sister, eyes rushing over the yellowing bruise blanketing her cheek. Nothing new, thank God._

"_All A's. I'm in the clear," Maegan reassured him. "You?"_

_Blaine groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Almost perfect. Almost."_

_Maegan hissed in sympathy. "He's drunk again. Can I stay here, Blaine? Please?"_

_Blaine pulled her into a protective hug. "Of course. Just… I need to chill out. Do you mind if I listen to music? Or do you want to play?"_

_Maegan thought for awhile. Then she grinned and pulled out Blaine's guitar. "Dad's asleep on the couch. Sing to me?" She handed the instrument over, letting out a small shout of pain as her wrist _(it's only sprained, Daddy, don't worry, you didn't, I mean, it didn't break in the fall) _overextended. Then she broke, crying. "Why, Blaine? Why now? I'm just so grateful Sarah's in the hospital, he can't do anything more to her there…"_

_Blaine planted a kiss on her forehead as she wept into his chest. Then he began to sing, his voice so pure that even angels wept bitterly for them._

Young girl, don't cry,

I'll be right here when your world starts to fall…

Young girl, it's alright,

Your tears will dry, you'll soon be free to fly…

_Maegan blinked at him, tears dewing her eyelashes like steam from a shower when it hits the cold mirror. It just wasn't fair. Blaine was all she had in the world. All his sisters had. They had no idea what it meant to be safe. He was 16 years old, acting as a protector, a comforter… Everything his father was meant to do but couldn't._

When you're safe inside your room, you tend to dream

Of a place where nothing's harder than it seems.

No one ever wants, or bothers, to explain

Of the heartache life can bring and what it means.

"_Stellaaaa… Wherearrrre youuuu?" A monstrous slurring floated through the floors of Blaine's room. "Are youuuuu hidinnng?"_

_Blaine squeezed his eyes shut, one tear escaping, trickling down his cheek and splashing on his sister's long brown hair. He could never love his mother – and that knowledge killed him. She always sided with his father, too much a coward to protect herself, let alone her children. But no one deserved that. Those dead eyes, leering at you, rotten whiskey wafting through the gaps in his unwashed teeth, that fury burning through the surprisingly strong hands that you could never escape from unharmed. But Blaine couldn't do anything, just hold his sister close. And pray._

_He raised his voice, trying to block the sound of his father's desperate pleas._

Now in a world where innocence is quickly claimed,

It's so hard to stand your ground when you're afraid.

No one reaches out a hand for you to hold.

When you look outside, look inside to your soul.

_A clap rang out._

"_Stellla? I'm sssssorry, honnney, I diddnn'tt meannn itt."_

"_You're drunk, James."_

"_Onnnly a little… Barely tippsyyy."_

_Maegan shuddered, beginning to crumple. Blaine steered them to his bed._

When there's no one else, look inside yourself.

Like your oldest friend, just trust the voice within.

Then you'll find the strength that will guide your way,

You'll learn to begin to trust the voice within.

_A large bang. A scream of pain._

"_It's okay, Maegan. I'm here now. I'm so sorry I couldn't be during semester. But I'm here." Blaine tried to be brave but his own voice was shaking terribly. "We can get out of this, I know it."_

_Maegan shook her head. "He won't go too far with me, Blaine. He won't take my life – and that's all I have left to give." Her words were thick, so much left unspoken. "But what about you? You're his only son. And you're…"_

_Blaine sighed. "I'm gay. It's okay, you can say it."_

_More screaming from downstairs._

_Maegan laughed humourlessly. "I know your faith was stolen along with mine. But… will you pray with me?"_

_Blaine grasped her hands in his, then promptly knelt beside her. "All I know is Psalm 23, Maegan. The Warblers sang it for a funeral. Is that okay?"_

_Maegan nodded, and bowed her head._

"_The Lord is my shepherd, so nothing shall I want. He maketh me to lie down in greener pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil: for thou art with me, thy rod and staff shall comfort me…" He sniffed, wiping a fresh load of tears from his face before doing the same for his sister. "Lord, please… even if you hate me… Look after Maegan and Sarah. They have done you no wrong. Please, protect them._

"_Amen."_

_There was a loud crash and thud, with random clangs of metal. It sounded like their fight – which had obviously become violent – had now moved to the kitchen._

_Maegan clamped her hands over her ears. "Make it stop. Please. Please, Blaine. Just make it stop."_

_Blaine debated for awhile, then whipped out his phone. Who knew what his father was capable of in this state? What he would do? Maegan deserved safety. Even if he wouldn't make it through. He called the police._

"_Noooooo! Someone, please help me!" His mother was still screaming._

"_Isss all your fault, Stella! You were meant to give me a son! And instead you gave me this… this…" There was the sound of a slap._

_Shock begun to set in Maegan's eyes. Blaine picked up his guitar, forcing himself not to vomit. "Maegan, it's my fault, it's my fault, don't you _DARE_ blame yourself for this, it's okay, the police are on their way."_

_Maegan just stared. "Then why is he doing it to me? To her? To our family?"_

_Blaine just shook his head and begun strumming._

The century before you could never turn twenty-one.

Years and years he waited, just waiting for a son,

For someone to go ahead and take his name, he said.

Years and years he waited and a daughter came instead.

_Maegan shook with the force of the truth of the lyrics. But that still didn't make it right._

But that's enough for now,

He should've never left you broken,

He should've held you;

Things a father never could do.

That's enough for now,

He would have never left you broken,

He would have held you.

Things your father never told you.

_A deafening explosion. Then silence. That was more terrifying than the sound of the gunshot had been._

Breathing comes in pairs, except for twice:

One begins and one's goodbye.

Sixty years of sorrow, he got five or six of bliss.

Left my mother's mother, without so much as a kiss.

"_Okay, James. What do you want?"_

_Oh, thank Christ, they were both still alive._

"_I want youuuu, Stelllaaa. I don't want those kids you gave me. Those shits. I want a real family." _

_Footsteps began to thunder up the stairs._

But that's enough for now.

He never wanted to leave you.

He would have held you.

Things your father never told you.

_There was a quick knock on the door downstairs, which was then blasted off its hinges. "Police! Stop what you're doing right now and put your hands in the air!"_

_Blaine collapsed onto Maegan's shoulder, burying his eyes in her hair, clutching her, clutching the only real thing he had left in his life. Maegan began to softly sing instead of him, stroking his back, swaying gently on the floor as his parents were both handcuffed and led away._

That's enough for now.

I would have never left you broken.

I would have held you.

Things your father never could do.

Words your father never told you.

* * *

><p>"Blaine, I…" Kurt began uncertainly. "I don't know what to say to you."<p>

Blaine sneezed, which progressed to a yet another coughing fit. Finally he spoke again, his voice much lower than before, sounding rather like a zip. "He got out free, of course. Proof of what money can do."

"You… you know you can't blame yourself for that, right? For any of it."

"I still feel guilty," Blaine whispered. "I should have acted more normal around him. I should have been more perfect. Whatever it took to stop him drinking. You know, I actually tipped his Scotch down the drain once? Replaced it with apple juice."

"And what did he do?"

Blaine shook his head. "I don't remember. There's so much of my memory missing, Kurt. That story? Most of it is what Maegan told me, when I asked. I remember singing. I remember something bad happening. That's it. I don't know what he did to me, to her, to my Mom…"

"Blaine, he had a gun. If you had tried to stop him, he might have tried to kill you."

"All because I got a freaking B on an exam," Blaine was muttering, wringing his hands manically.

Kurt shook his head. "Have you told anyone else this?"

Blaine looked up, finally finding Kurt's eyes again. "Jeff. Nick. Wes and David. That's it."

"And… what happens when you go home?"

Blaine scoffed. "I don't. I did, for a few months. But then he tried to 'straighten me out'. His own words. I float around between those four guys. Maegan comes with me sometimes, or stays with her own friends. And Sarah…" Tears finally started to fall. "She never woke up. It was suspicious, but apparently not enough to convict my father of anything."

"So your parents are still together? After he tried to _kill_ her?"

Blaine shook his head. "She fired the shot. Self-defence. Or so the police report says. But they split up awhile ago. I haven't been to see her since."

Kurt glanced helplessly at the wreck of a boy in his arms. "Blaine, I didn't think it were possible, but my respect for you has grown infinitely. Thank you for trusting me. Always remember this: you're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think."

Blaine reluctantly gave half a giggle. "Look at you, with the cheese."

Kurt smiled. "I, my dear, am the queen of cheese. You, as the king, have no right to take that away from me. Or do you not like cheese?"

Blaine forced a wavering smile, his hoarse voice cracking. "Of course I do. My favourite's Gouda."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Angst! Angst! Angst! Angst! *Cue Potter Puppet Pals headbanging.* Only don't actually headbang, please. I gave myself whiplash once headbanging to Bohemian Rhapsody - it was so severe I ended up in the ER and they gave my Valium...**

**Right. Um... I love reading angst, but I'm really not used to writing it. So please, bring on all the criticism! I hope it's not too cliched for you...**

**I'm pretty sure I'm going to up the rating. What do you think? I don't know how explicit everything is, or how much of an effect it's going to have****... Please let me know what you think, whether I should up the rating or not?**

**I start work at 0930 tomorrow! Totally getting a sleep-in! Yay! But I'm working 0930-1230 and then doing a sleepover shift that night, so no chapter tomorrow, I'm sorry. You may get one on Saturday, but I can't make promises, I'm going straight from work to a friend's party to babysitting, so I'm not sure how much writing I'll get done. But I'll try!  
><strong>

**The songs I've used are _The Voice Within_, by Christina Aguilera, and _Enough For Now_, by The Fray. Both are amazing, I love them dearly. There are, as always, a few allusions to things. Fudgecakes for anyone who can find and name them! Hints: there are three in this chapter including the title and not including the songs, and they are all from different sources. And, just in case you were wondering, I don't own any of them and neither do I own Glee.  
><strong>

**So what did you guys think of the angst? I do have a few other stories I can bring up later, if you want. Or I can move purely back to my normal fluffy-cracky drama.**

**Thanks to everyone who has read and subscribed and reviewed and I know I keep saying this, but it actually means the world to me. I was thinking the other day, that Glee was getting more and more emotional but then I realised it was because I'm allowing myself to feel again (which is a MASSIVE deal to me, like you cannot believe) and I'm actually feeling happy a lot of the time, and writing is actually letting me do that. And then I get people actually telling me that they read and enjoy my work and it just... well, it's cliched but it really does make my day.**

**Shout outs to the wonderful, the talented, the gorgeous, the amazing riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795, Different Child, Lalice of Roses, xXLittle Rose AngelXx, Falling. Through. Wonderland AND Brook-Lucas-Fan-23. Love you all!**

**Love me? Hate me? Want me to be in a fatal steamroller accident and be eaten by Goldmember with shmokes? Please let me know.**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	15. There'll Be No More Tears in Heaven

Kurt didn't know what to do. Blaine had been crying on and off fitfully for hours now. Sometimes Kurt would crack a joke, or Blaine would remember a sweet story, and for a few minutes his breathing would slow and he would lie still. But soon enough his whole body would again start to spasm and spew out silent tears. And all Kurt could do was hold him and make sure his blood sugar level remained above 90. He had never before felt so helpless.

And now he was really worried. This last bout, for want of a better word, had lasted over half an hour and Blaine was beginning to wheeze. Kurt had tried reassuring him. He'd tried distracting him. He'd tried simply talking. Nothing was working. Deep down, Kurt knew what Blaine wanted - he'd asked God for the same thing so many times before. Well, he couldn't do that, he couldn't raise the dead – but he could come close.

"Blaine? Where's your cell phone?" He gently asked.

Only sobbing.

"Blaine, my watch died, I need the time. Please, where's your cell?"

Blaine threw an arm in the general direction of his desk before collapsing into his pillow, clutching his head.

Fumbling in the dark, Kurt's hand finally met cool plastic. Trying to draw in as much strength as possible with his next inhalation, he flipped the cover and scrolled through the contacts, stopping at her name. P_ick up_, he pleaded desperately as he hit the call button.

"He – Hello? Blaine? Is everything okay?" A female voice rang into his ear.

"Actually…" Was this such a good idea? It was 3 in the morning… "My name is Kurt Hummel. I'm so sorry to wake you. I'm a friend of Blaine's…"

"Oh my God, is he okay?" The soprano trilled. "What happened?"

"He… he just told me about Sarah and he broke down and I haven't seen him like this before, he's hysterical," Kurt rushed. "And… well, I know how much I want my Mom every day, and so I thought, I'd try and give Blaine the next best thing. I… I hope that's okay…"

He could hear Maegan breathing as she processed this. Then her clear voice came back on the line. "You know, she would have turned 6 a few days ago… Thank you for calling me, Kurt. Can I speak to my baby brother now?"

"He's not exactly in any position to hold a phone right now," Kurt explained, glancing at the mess on the salt-ridden bed. "Can I put you on loudspeaker?"

There was a rush of air as he heard Maegan smile. "Go ahead."

Kurt clicked a button and placed the phone near the pillow.

"**Hi, Blainers**."

Blaine glanced up in shock – he'd been too distraught to pay attention to Kurt's actions earlier. "Maegan?" he whispered. "Is that you?"

"**I'm here, sweetie**. **How are you?**"

"I miss her so goddamn much, Maegan."

"**Me too, Blaine. Me too. Every day.**"

Blaine blew out a large amount of air as his breathing finally began to even out. "It's not fair. I'm still alive. I barely think about her, Maegan. It's awful. I shouldn't be allowed to live normally."

"**And you obviously aren't, honey, otherwise your boyfriend wouldn't have been forced to call me after witching hour.**"

"But… I couldn't do it, Maegs. I couldn't stop what he did to you. I couldn't save her."

"**Blaine, it's not your fault. Do NOT blame yourself for this, you hear me?**"

"I should have stopped him." Blaine was shaking his head like a dog, hysteria not allowing him to stop. Kurt dropped next to him, placing hands just below his ears.

"**Blaine, I was home when it happened. Do you blame the doctors for not saving her? Do you blame me for not stopping him?**"

"N-N-N-No."

"**Then what gives you the right to blame yourself? Are you that arrogant? And… what's your BSL?**"

"It's 95," Kurt announced. "I'm keeping an eye on it, don't worry about that aspect, Maegan."

"I'm not arrogant, Maegs. But it's still my fault. Isn't it?" Blaine had stopped, frowning. "I didn't get there in time."

There was silence on the phone apart from the audible breathing from Maegan, and David's and Wes' occasional snores. Then she changed tactic.

"**Do you remember her favourite song, Blaine?**"

"The Cuppycake Song?"

Kurt snorted. "You're my cuppycake, gumdrop, schnoogums-boogums, you're the apple of my eye…" He sang quietly.

Maegan giggled. "**Kudos to Kurt for knowing that. No… The Beatles. Remember, Blaine?"**

"Of course. Lucky we had such an influence on her, hey?"

"**Lucky**." There was an inhalation, and the girl began to sing.

_**Blackbird singing in the dead of night,**_

_**Take these broken wings and learn to fly.**_

_**All your life,**_

_**You were only waiting for this moment to arise.**_

Kurt was astounded. He'd thought that Rachel was talented, but this… Maegan had the voice of an angel. The closest he could relate it to was Emmy Rossum in _Phantom of the Opera_. But even then… Emmy had lacked the emotional depth and even some of the clarity that was seeping like honey through the cell phone. He began to gently harmonise beneath her, lying down behind Blaine once more.

_**Blackbird singing in the dead of night,**_

_**Take these sunken eyes and learn to see.**_

_**All your life,**_

_**You were only waiting for this moment to be free.**_

Funny how it had taken one death and several very close calls for Blaine to start his emancipation; everything that he had bottled up over the years, all the hurt and sorrow, the anger, the joy: they all came streaming freely down his face with his tears.

_**Blackbird, fly, fly.**_

_**Blackbird, fly**_

_**Into the light of the cold dark night.**_

Wes awoke with a jump. There was a female voice in the room, her solid vibrato mingling with a voice that could only be Kurt's sending shivers up and down his spine. He glanced over at Blaine's bed – was he asleep? Kurt had his mouth close to Blaine's ear, with a cell phone resting near the headboard. He decided to sing as well, his tenor completing the fifth perfectly.

_**Blackbird, fly, fly.**_

_**Blackbird, fly**_

_**Into the light of the dark black night.**_

Blaine coughed and lay still, his breathing slow and deep, the beauty of music once again lulling him into unconsciousness.

_**Blackbird singing in the dead of night,**_

_**Take these broken wings and learn to fly.**_

_**All your life,**_

_**You were only waiting for this moment to arise.**_

_**You were only waiting for this moment to arise.**_

_**You were only waiting for this moment to arise.**_

"Goodnight, Blaine," Kurt whispered. He shot Wes a look, one finger pressed to his lips, then picked up the phone and took it off loudspeaker.

"Thank you so much, Maegan," he spoke softly. "I think he's asleep now. Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Actually, I am. I think that helped me, too." She thanked him. "Kurt, you obviously care a great deal for my brother. Take care of him for me?"

"Of course," he reassured her. "You take care of yourself. Go back to sleep."

She giggled. "You too. You must be exhausted."

But Kurt had already pressed end. The last thing he knew before darkness enveloped him, was that somehow, no matter how difficult it would be, they had overcome a huge hurdle tonight, and the only way from here was up.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Wow. This chapter was actually fairly difficult for me to write. I was thinking about a couple of people that have passed this year. One of them was a client of mine - I'm a disability support worker, and I work casually so I go to a lot of places and there's not much regularity. A few months ago I went to this house I hadn't been to in maybe 2 months. One of their more difficult clients had died after she began to refuse food. She was intellectually disabled as well as physically and it just shocked me, that something like that could happen, and that I could just move about my job that day and feel basically nothing. And I was one of the few people that this woman would (most of the time) listen to, so I did feel guilty for not going back there in that small space and talking to her, or noticing anything earlier. But then I thought, she was basically trapped in that body. This was her way of getting control. And she was freed - so Blackbird is partially dedicated to her (and why I went with this song instead, Shae).**

**The other person was my mentor. I met him through an organisation I volunteer at. He was the most arrogant, offensive, argumentative bastard that you've ever met. But he had a huge heart, everything he did was to help people or teach people. I am the only one who's ever beaten him in an argument... He was murdered on Christmas Eve last year. We used to always joke it'd be a diabetic coma that would do it. And that really caused me to shut down everything. So... I think writing this just let me release some of that tension I've been carrying around.**

**Wow. Oversharing much?**

**But I want you all to know that it really does get easier. I couldn't so much show you that in this chapter, or the last, but it does. And again - if you ever need to talk, I'm always here. I don't judge, I'm in no position to. You can PM me, or hit my Tumblr ask - pi-on-a-skateboard(.)tumblr(.)com . Don't ever give up hope. There is ALWAYS someone there to help you through.  
><strong>

**On a more pleasant note... My friendship group did a Kris Kringle. And my lovely amazing friend got me... RED VINES! And a notebook (which is great, I need one!) with Keep Calm & Grow A Moustache on the front, complete with a picture of Porno!Blaine on the inside... You know me too well... :D  
><strong>

**Only reference I can think of (bar the song, which you should all know - and yes, that link is deliberate) is the title. And it's so obvious I'll be disappointed if none of you get it. But bonus points if you give me the band/artist and what event this was written for. Oh, and last chapter - I may have lied about the number of allusions. Kell, I didn't even think of Matilda but you're definitely right there! There's also A Streetcar Named Desire and Winnie the Pooh quotes there, as well as She's The Man. :D  
><strong>

**Thanks to all my lovely readers and subscribers! Shout-outs** **to ****riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795, Brrok-Lucas-Fan-23, Different Child****, Falling. Through. Wonderland, jensenfan4ever and xXLittle Rose AngelXx. Thanks so much for your continuing support, it really does mean soooo much! There's a few reviews I have to respond to, and I promise I'll get round to them, I've just been really busy with work and friends and babysitting the last few days.**

**Okay, I think I've bitten your ear off... Or maybe your eyes, seeing as I'm writing... Um yes STOP TALKING STEPH**

**Love me? Hate me? Want me to get my fingers stuck inside a Red Vine like one of those party trick things with no hope of escape so that I can't write for you? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling!**


	16. Know the Sunshine Has A Meaning

"Rise and shine, lovebirds!" David's voice broke the scent of coffee in the air and Kurt jumped. Lovebirds? That was a new nickname. Why…?

Oh. He'd fallen asleep spooning Blaine. That's why.

"Did we have a nice night?" He asked, winking.

A gavel came flying through the air like a banana, hitting David square on the forehead.

"Owwwwwwwwwww."

"You were asleep the entire night!" Apparently Wes wasn't a morning person either. "Kurt was up until past 4, I was waking every half hour to check Blaine's blood sugar, and I don't even want to think about what Blaine went through. Your comment was rude and inappropriate and, quite frankly, I'm disappointed in you, David. So is Josie."

Kurt looked down at Blaine, who was lying watching the events, a huge grin on his face. "I take it Josie is another gavel?"

Blaine coughed, cleared his throat and squeaked. Yes, squeaked.

David jumped on Wes' bed hurriedly. "WAS THAT A MOUSE?" He clutched Wes.

Wes let out a high-pitched shriek that could rival Kurt's. "Kill it! Kill it! You're the man… I mean, the bigger man!"

"You're older! You do it!"

Then the boys realised they were clinging on to each other for dear life and screamed harder.

The door burst open and Nick and Jeff rushed in. "We heard screaming and… oh…"

Nick collapsed, rolling on the ground with fits of giggles. Somehow or another he ended up under the bed on which the two boys were jumping for dear life.

"JEFF! Help me! They're going to jump on me and squash me like a BUG! PLEASE DON'T JUMP ON ME!"

"I'll protect you, Nicky!" Jeff ran over, grinning, before pulling his boyfriend to his feet. "We need to calm those two down!"

Blaine chuckled and pointed to his wardrobe over the other side of the room, where he had hidden… a water pistol. Jeff pulled it down with a surprisingly elegant jump and turned it on the babbling bumbling band of baboons.

A second gavel made its solo mission through space, this time heading for Jeff. But the sudden splash of water was pretty effective – David immediately jumped on the ground and Wes sat on the bed, looking over at Blaine, trying to discern if he was laughing or coughing.

"Blaine. You okay, bro?" David poured a glass of water while the others surrounded the bed.

Blaine shook his head, hand covering his throat, though nothing could wipe the smile from his face as he opened his mouth and squeaked again.

Wes cringed. "DAVID! Tea with honey! Stat!"

Jeff was laughing. "Ah, I knew you'd hit puberty sometime, Blaine!" He teased. "Maybe now you'll actually grow?"

Blaine kicked him. "Sorry, Wes." He whispered.

"Blaine, I don't want to hear it," Wes ordered, council mode switching on. "You're on complete vocal rest until rehearsal. I'm just going to pray it's only morning voice for now."

Blaine busied himself with his insulin and blood testing kit, frowning angrily. "Talking will help warm my voice, Wes, that's how morning voice disappears…" He half-screeched half-whispered.

Wes frowned. "You disagree with me, Warbler Blaine? I'm very important. I have many leather-bound books and my apartment smells of rich mahogany!"

Nick did a doubletake. "Are you on crack, Wes?"

David laughed. "Say crack again!"

"Crack!"

Kurt shook his head, walking out the door and beckoning the others to follow. "Good God, I need some coffee."

* * *

><p><strong>... Yep. It's crack. This is what happens when you need some filler chapters and you're operating on 4 hours sleep after work... I'm a danger magnet, I swear. I've had to call the medics for this house before... But I was working last night and just after the other worker left (so it was me alone with 4 clients) one of them started complaining of feeling like she was going to vomit. And then told us she had chest pain. Yay, ambulances! So I got no sleep. She was fine, though, spent the night in hospital and came home this morning. So, yeah, I needed a break, hence CRACK!<br>**

**I have a few chapters planned as well! There's an epilogue that's practically been written, though it's a little while off. I'm not sure how many chapters we'll have til then though. And there's the other story based off this as well, which will be Blaine's take on various things that happen post Silly Love Songs. And maybe some flashbacks, we shall see.**

**Thanks to everyone reading this and alerted etc etc. Shout outs to ****xXLittle Rose AngelXx, riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795, Brook-Lucas-Fan-23 and Lalice of Roses! Thanks so much for what you've all said.**

**Hehehehe I'm currently sitting on 69 reviews. This amuses me greatly.**

**Steph, how old are you? You're 20 years old. GROW UP!**

**NO, NEVERRRRRRRRRRRRR!**

**Yes, immaturity.**

**Anyhoo... Like it? Hate it? Want me to be sucked into the paradoxical vortex of time travel so I end up killing my great-grandmother, who is actually me, so I can't give birth to my future children, thus the current me, and not write for you? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D  
><strong>


	17. I Hope You Learn It Note For Note

"Alright, Warblers, listen up!" Wes announced, standing up at the head of the Warbler breakfast table. It was a Saturday morning, and the entire choir were gathered in the Dalton dining hall before a full day of rehearsal.

Nobody paid attention, too busy stuffing their faces with chocolate croissants or chatting in eager anticipation with their neighbours.

"Hey, everybody!" David yelled out.

"Wow, this burrito is delicious, but it sure is filling!" Thad exclaimed. "You boarders get great food!" He quivered under Wes' evil eye.

Nick and Jeff stood up, breaking into song. "EVERYBODY! ROCK YOUR BODY! EVERYBODY! ROCK YOUR BODY RIGHT! BACKSTREET'S BACK, ALRIGHT!"

Cheers and whooping surrounded them. Jeff turned to Wes. "The table's yours." He sat down, turning his attention back to his cheese and Vegemite soldiers.

"Thank you, Neff." Wes turned his gavel on the table. "Now, we've already had one case of laryngitis this morning." He shot a glare at Blaine. "I don't want any of you pushing yourself. We don't know how Blaine's voice is going to survive today, so while you're eating I want you to go through the Warbler repertoire. Think of any songs we could possibly perform today, just in case – we may need the fillers. I'll see you all in the choir hall in half an hour." He sat down, engrossing himself in conversation with David and Thad, silently praying for a miracle.

* * *

><p><em>Well my heart knows me better than I know myself<em>

_So I'm gonna let it do all the talking._

_I came across a place in the middle of nowhere_

_With a big black horse and a cherry tree._

_I felt a little fear upon my back._

_He said, 'Don't look back, just keep on walking.'_

_When the big black horse said, 'Look this way!'_

_Said, 'Hey there, lady, would you marry me?'_

Kurt glanced across at Blaine, a smile sneaking across his lips. David, Wes and Thad were standing in front of the Warblers, stomping forwards, performing towards the couch, singing into… you guessed it. Gavels.

"What exactly has this got to do with Valentine's?" Kurt asked him.

Blaine shrugged. "We have to cater to everyone, I suppose." His voice was stronger than before – he could now speak a whole sentence without it breaking, but the pitch was almost high enough to rival Kurt's, and still rather quiet.

_But I said, 'No, no, no, no, no, no'_

_I said, 'No, no, you're not the one for me.'_

_No, no, no, no, no, no,_

_Said, 'No, no, you're not the one for me'._

Wes attempted a sassy finger at David, who promptly cracked up, and Thad hit him on the head with the gavel.

"Look, guys, back-up is amazing. We can teach it to Kurt pretty quickly." Blaine stood up. "It's different and – "his voice cracked.

"STOP TALKING, BLAINE!" The room yelled at him.

Thad stood on the desk. "Blaine, shut it, we need your voice. Now, all in favour of KT?" All hands were raised. "Motion passed. Who else has a song?"

Nick turned to Jeff. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I think I am, Nick," he muttered, elbowing him.

Nick's arm shot up to the ceiling, mimicking Hermione Granger. "Jeff, Kurt and I have a song… we can sing it to each other, or to a member of the audience. And we want to sing it to Blaine." He turned to the boy sitting on the couch. "We know what date it was last week, Blaine, we just got so caught up we couldn't do this earlier."

David smiled knowingly. "Is this what I think it is?"

"I think you know. Kurt, are you ready?"

The countertenor grinned, sliding next to the boys on the piano stool.

_I found God on the corner of First and Armistad,_

_Where the West was all but won._

_All alone, smoking his last cigarette…_

_I said, "where you been?" He said, "Ask anything."_

The Warblers who knew the song – which was most of them – began humming the chords lightly underneath them.

Blaine blinked. Where were they leading with this?

Kurt moved from the piano, kneeling down in front of Blaine, eyes understanding, as he picked up the verse.

_But in the end, everyone ends up alone._

_Losing her – the only one who's ever known_

_Who I am, who I'm not and who I wanna be._

_No way to know how long she will be next to me…_

Of course Kurt would understand. He'd lost his own mother, many years ago. How could Blaine forget? Of all the people in the world… And then something clicked. Kurt was there. Kurt would guide him through. Blaine didn't have to be the mentor – he couldn't always be the older, wiser one – sometimes he would need help. And Kurt was the perfect one to give it to him.

_Lost and insecure,_

_You found me, you found me,_

_Lying on the floor,_

_Surrounded, surrounded._

_Why'd you have to wait?_

_Where were you? Where were you?_

_Just a little late._

_You found me. You found me._

Blaine pulled him into his arms. The Warblers exchanged high-fives and Jeff came forward.

"We… may have been planning that awhile."

Nick turned around, jumping on top of the couch to face the group. "Now, who owes me money?"

* * *

><p><strong>I'm running off to work yet AGAIN so it won't be too much rambling... But basically I reckon I would DIE if the Warblers did either of these - <em>You Fo<em>_und Me,_**

******Um... Glee tonight! But I'm working so I won't see it so you won't get me squeeing for a few nights.**

**Work is crazy so don't know how often I'll be able to update. But I know what I want in the next chapter, so you shouldn't be waiting too long. And more angst *evil cackles*.**

**Just reminding you that I own nothing, so please don't sue me.**

**Thanks to everyone! Shout outs to xXLittle Rose AngelXx, Lalice of Roses, riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795 and Falling. Through. Wonderland! Love you!**

**Love it? Hate it? Want me to be eaten by Harry's dragon because I don't have the same vocal prowess and hence cannot write? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	18. Thunder Only Happens When It's Raining

"Wes, I want to sing" Blaine announced, standing to face the council desk.

Wes hook his head. "No, Blaine. Absolutely not. You're on – "

" - vocal rest, I know." Blaine interrupted with a sigh. "But we don't know the full extent of my loss of voice yet. I won't strain it, I promise, but we need to give it a trial run."

"That is three sentences without your voice breaking… Do NOT push it." Wes bowed his head, conferring with the other council members. Then he nodded primly. "Go ahead, Warbler Blaine. What did you have in mind?"

Blaine was already sitting at the piano, delicate fingers drawing out the mellow tones of Adele's _Someone Like You_. He coughed, clearing his throat, then quietly, cautiously, began to sing.

_Remember when we were such fools?_

_And so convinced and just too cool?_

_Oh no, no, no…_

_I wish I could touch you again,_

_I wish I could still call you a friend._

_I'd give anything._

Kurt jumped. That was different… Surprising how well Pink fit with Adele, when you thought about it… Nick beside him was nodding, unfocused eyes clearly drawing back some memory or another.

Blaine skipped the bridge, heading straight to the chorus.

_If someone said three years from now_

_You'd be long gone, I'd_

_Stand up and punch them out,_

_Cos they're all wrong._

_I know_

_Better_

_Still, you said forever_

_And ever…_

_Who knew?_

Blaine sniffed, eyes misting slightly, but he kept playing. Kurt frowned, watching him. If this was like when he played Britney for David and Wes… It was moments like these when he was blown away by the talent of his friend. Music was clearly his only release, and the emotion that spewed out of the piano was incredible. All of the Warblers were silent, watching him intently; not one of them had the courage or skill or knowledge to help back him up.

_Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood,_

_Miss, no way it's all good,_

_It didn't slow me down._

_Mistaken, always second guessing,_

_Underestimated,_

_Look, I'm still around._

Blaine's façade started to crack with his voice, but no one wanted to move. The dipping of his voice only seemed to heighten the intensity of the song, speaking more than words alone ever could.

"Wow, that's new…" Nick whispered to himself.

_Pretty pretty please, don't you ever ever feel_

_Like you're less than, less that perfect._

_Pretty pretty please, if you ever ever feel_

_Like you're nothing, you are perfect to me…_

Blaine was singing to his family, to his sisters, who were just as broken as the songs. Little tiny fragments of his life, pouring together somehow smoothly and united by the underlying piano, yet if you even tried to overlap them they'd clash horribly.

Kurt looked down and found that somehow, somewhere along the lines, he'd begun to cry. A few sniffles around the room informed him that he wasn't the only one.

_Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend_

_Somewhere alone in the bitterness,_

_And I would have stayed up with you all night_

_Had I known how to save a life…_

_How to save a life…_

Blaine breathed heavily, finally raising his hands from the piano but not moving. The Warblers sat, barely daring to breathe, feeling like they were intruding on something private just by being in the same room at that time.

Then Kurt stood and sat next to Blaine on the stool. "That was incredible," he whispered. "When did you learn to sing like that?"

Blaine nuzzled his head into Kurt's shoulder. "Well… I haven't used Adele before, or Perfect, though it just kinda flowed… But I have sung that before."

"I could tell," Kurt assured him. "Mind if I ask when?"

But he didn't need to hear Blaine's whispered answer to know. "I performed that at Sarah's funeral."

* * *

><p><strong>Two chapters in one day! Lucky you guys!<strong>

**So, this is my own mash-up. Sorry if it doesn't convey well on paper, I can hear it (obviously) but I know I get annoyed when I can't hear what someone else is using... I'm sure there are plenty of others who have done similar things, and done them much better than myself, but it works together really well and I'm sorta proud of it. And yeah, the lyrics do clash and the tune changes, but that's part of the charm really...  
><strong>

**There's more angst coming up. You've no idea how badly I needed to write angst tonight... I've basically lost all faith in humanity, thanks to something that happened involving one of my clients a few days ago. I'm kinda shaken and in shock at the depravity of the actions that occurred. I'm okay though. And I've talked to some people, and writing is really helpful at the moment. So there will probably be more angst to come up later, because I need to get this released somehow. You can guess what scene will be coming up :P**

**Thanks again to my wonderful readers. Shout outs to xXLittle Rose AngelXx and Brook-Lucas-Fan-23****, the crazy people who somehow found and reviewed the last chapter in only a few hours.**

**Like it? Hate it? Want me to be caught up in the paradox I created in the last chapter where I mistakenly stated that today was in fact tomorrow when it really is today and not yesterday or last year or the end of the universe? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	19. Glide Away on Soapy Heels

The Warblers hadn't known what to do as Kurt wiped every waterfall of grief as they fell from Blaine's cheeks. So Wes, ever quick on his feet, had broken rehearsal for lunch, and the pair now found themselves in a nearby pizza parlour gathered around a coffee table with Wes, David, Nick and Jeff.

"Sorry I'm such a wreck, guys," Blaine whispered, having finally regained some control over himself.

"For God's sake, man, you're not a robot!" David told him. "If any of the guys here went through even half of what you do, I guarantee they would have crumbled long ago."

Nick was nodding. "We all have problems, Blaine. It's okay."

Wes smiled. "I've seen so many mini-meltdowns. For you, it was just a matter of time."

Kurt squeezed his arm, warm eyes full of compassion and… empathy? "The first is always the hardest… First Christmas without them, first missed birthday… You'll be a disaster on the anniversary. But Blaine, no one expects anything different from you."

Jeff looked up to find the circle staring at him. "What, is it my turn?" A flicker of a smile passed around the group. "Honestly, Blaine, I'm just wondering how you survived this long. I mean, I've seen you upset before but… never like this. Not even on that night…"

Blaine wondered what to tell them. How could he explain it? "Well, if you don't feel anything, it doesn't hurt," he whispered, glancing up at the confused faces of his friends. "It's like… you know when you watch TV with the volume all the way down? Not muted, just quiet enough so you can basically understand what's happening but you can't make out individual words?" All eyes were on him, Kurt's bobbing slightly with his head. "It's like a defence mechanism, really. Whenever something bad happens, I push it to the side and lock it away so it can't hurt me. Singing is the only time when I let myself properly feel – because then I can push everything into the notes and the words, but when the music stops, so does the emotion and I go back into my empty shell. I know it's not healthy, but it's the only way I can cope…"

The boys were silent. Then Nick spoke. "But, something changed, didn't it, Blaine? It became harder to ignore?"

Blaine considered it, then slowly nodded.

"So… what changed?" David asked.

Blaine's eyes flicked ever so briefly to Kurt's, though this went unnoticed by everyone except Wes. He shrugged. "I guess I just started to feel again..."

Jeff patted his arm. "That's good. Seriously, Blaine, I don't think I've been this worried about you since you showed up on my doorstep last year."

"What happened?" Kurt asked, eyes widening.

"Can I tell him?" Jeff asked. Blaine spread his arms open, palms up – go ahead. "Well, it was a couple of weeks into the summer holidays when Blaine and Maegan decided to drop by…"

* * *

><p>"Terrified of what's inside, to save his life he CRAWLS LIKE A WORM FROM A BIRD!" <em>Jeff was in his bedroom, air guitaring and headbanging to the max, so much so that he missed his mother knocking on the door. So when he finally turned around and opened his eyes to see his Mum bending over in his doorway, hands pressed to her face to contain her peals of laughter, he felt totally justified in diving into bed headfirst and burying himself in the covers.<em>

"_You've got a friend at the door," she giggled, pulling back the doonas to expose her beetroot of a son. "A boy," she added with raised eyebrow._

"_And who might that boy be?" Jeff asked, waggling his own eyebrows comically. It wouldn't be Nick, would it? They… well, Jeff had his hopes, but he knew they were just that – hopes. Despite the incredible amount of time they spent together, Jeff still didn't know if Nick was gay, let alone interested at all in him…_

"_Strange name…" His mother's voice cut back in, breaking Jeff's daydream. "Jeff? You there?"_

_Jeff shook his head. "Blaine, you said?"_

"_Yes. With a girl, as well. But it's so late, I wondered if you guys had organised something and forgotten to tell me, but… I don't know, something's a bit off. You better come down and see them anyway."_

_A girl? Blaine? Blaine with a _girl_? What the devil was going on? He all but ran down the stairs, halting on the bottom step, staring at his roommate and this mysterious girl. He could see why his mother was worried, though it was very subtle – the protective arms enveloping her, the darting bloodshot eyes, the pale face, the pursed white lips. Jeff knew instantly that something horrible had happened._

"_Blaine. Mate, what's wrong?" Jeff put an arm around the boy, who flinched. "Thanks, Mum, I'll take them to my room."_

_The girl made a small noise, pressing into Blaine's shoulder, floodgates opening._

"_I, uh, I'm Jeff…" he offered lamely, heart breaking. "Can I… is there anything I can do? Do you need anything?"_

_Blaine shook his head, lips quivering. "Your room, Jeff. Please. I'll explain. I'm so sorry…"_

"_I'm your friend, Blaine, you never need to apologise." Jeff opened his door, grateful that his Mum had cracked down on him earlier – the floor was clear of underwear and other… embarrassing… possessions. He immediately chastised himself for even thinking that when his friend was so clearly in trouble._

"_I just… I had nowhere else to go. I just left Wes' a couple of days ago. I was at home and…" his voice shook. "This is – is Maegan. My sister. Um…"_

_Jeff nodded in understanding. God, he had a hunch. A very nasty hunch. He prayed he wasn't right._

"_You… you remember what I told you? About my dad? He… he got worse." Blaine swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut and resting his chin on Maegan's head, pressing her closer, like a safety blanket. "My… my sister…" Jeff peered closely at Maegan, then drew back as she turned towards him, her right eye a nasty mix of green and yellow and purple. But Maegan shook her head – not her. "Sarah, she… Apparently she fell down the stairs."_

_Jeff stared in shock. The five year old? Oh God. Was she in hospital? What the hell had happened?_

_Maegan began to retch, and Jeff thrust his rubbish bin under her. Blaine sat down, holding her steady, frequent blinking trying and failing to hold back his own tears. "Jeff, she's gone. Last night. We just found out. I had to get Maegan out and just… I'm so sorry, I knew she'd be safe here, God, I'm so selfish, but I just, there was nowhere else, we've already bugged Wes enough and Nick and David I couldn't get hold of and you live so close and…."_

_Jeff put a hand on Blaine's mouth, who was clearly starting to go into shock. "Blaine, you're welcome here any time you like. Maegan, too." He passed the girl some tissues and a glass of water. "I have to go talk to my Mum. Will you be okay here for a few minutes? And can I invite the guys round as well? We can crack open a slab…. of coke…"_

_Blaine nodded. "Thank you," he whispered._

_And soon enough the group were clustered in Jeff's bedroom, plates of untouched Tim Tams and lamingtons on the ground. Wes was talking quietly to Blaine while David had taken Maegan under his wing, holding her as she shook. Nick and Jeff just sat there, helpless, trying to think of any way In which they could help. Then Jeff jumped up, dragging his keyboard to the chair next to Nick._

"_We're all musicians… Music will help…" Then he turned it on and began to play a haunting melody, so simple yet eerily beautiful, and sung in a gentle low husk._

You were right beside me,

Tell me why the gods above abandoned us?

While we were busy hiding,

The universe decided other plans for us.

_Maegan turned to look at them, getting up and dragging David by the hand. They sat down in front of Jeff's chair, David leaning against the bed, Maegan in his lap, gently swaying. Wes and Blaine stopped their hushed conversation, and Blaine collapsed down on Jeff's bed, tears threatening to fall._

Is this a reason? Some shift in the seasons?

Couldn't we bring it back to life?

If somehow we found it, that tape, and rewound it,

Would that make it right?

_Of course, nothing would ever be right in Blaine's life, ever again. Not after that. Not after having to grow up so quickly, only to have one of the few good things in his life snatched away. He should have been there. He shouldn't have been hiding at Dalton. Sure, he'd had as good a time as he possibly could… But now his situation was even worse. He should have been there. He should have protected them. He shouldn't have let his father push him away, like an embarrassment._

Took so long to find you, I'm one step behind you,

Dragging you back into the light.

_Jeff felt horrible, he really did. He was so lucky. He took it all for granted. Here was a boy who had nothing left in his life. Jeff had to do whatever he could to keep Blaine going. To help him see that it would get better. He couldn't lose another person._

No one knows the ending, everybody's guessing

Just like you and me.

And since we're all pretending, why don't we pretend

That we were meant to be?

_Damn, this song was amazing. Who knew what was out there? But surely Blaine's sister was in a better place now, right? One where she wouldn't hurt any more… He could hear Wes muttering softly again to Blaine, arms holding him tightly – "I don't know, I don't know what to believe, but you WILL see her again, one day, maybe not in this life but in the next." Jeff swallowed. Jesus, even he was starting to tear up._

Let's forget the reasons, the shift in the seasons,

Couldn't we bring it back to life?

If somehow we found it, that tape, and rewound it,

Would that make it right?

Took so long to find you, need I remind you,

We were like sheep lost in the night…

_Reason? What reason? What reason could you possibly have for that? There was no doubt in Jeff's mind that Blaine's father was responsible… But that sort of thinking wasn't helpful. There was absolutely nothing he could do to change the past – all he could do was hope to help them find that silver lining, to find their own path again and to keep fighting, to keep living._

_Silence followed his chords. Then Maegan spoke. "Did you write that?"_

_Jeff shook his head. "Nah, me cousin did. Lives back home, but he sent me a draft and I loved it."_

_Blaine sat up again, covering his wet eyes from sight. "We're basically organising the… the…"_

"_The service?" Nick helped him out._

"_Yes. By ourselves… Can you help us with the music? I think Maegan has some ideas, and I do too, but… I don't know if we can do it."_

_Wes smiled. "I'll talk to the council. Tell us what you need."_

* * *

><p>"So, naturally, the Warblers held an emergency the next day." Blaine coughed.<p>

"Just out of curiosity, what date are we talking about here?" Kurt wanted to know.

"July 15 is the anniversary," Blaine spat out before continuing. "Yet another thing to be eternally grateful to these guys for."

"It was an… interesting experience," David pondered. "Naturally, Wes took charge. Thad and I helped out as best we could, and one of older council members who'd already graduated."

"I still can't believe how many people we actually managed to round up," Wes began to drift into thought. "Organising the Warblers on vacation is like herding cats…"

* * *

><p>"<em>I now call this emergency meeting of the Warblers to order," Wes banged Elizabeth on the table before issuing a silent apology – she'd likely be getting a lot of abuse today.<em>

_Trent raised a hand. "Why is there a girl in here?" Maegan and Blaine were sitting alongside the council at the desk._

_Whispers broke out already. It was odd – they'd all received a call from Wes after 2200 the previous night, stating that there was rehearsal and everyone was needed._

"_I WILL have order," Wes banged the gavel again. "When you are all quiet…" He glared around the room. "It is my sad duty to inform you that Blaine and his sister, Maegan, who you see sitting with us today, are in need of our help. Their sister has passed away, and I would ask that you respect them and do not ask them for details, lest you suffer the wrath of my gavels." He paused for effect. "They would like us to help sing at her funeral. Sarah was five years old."_

_Blaine sniffed and stood up. "Thanks, Wes," he began, somewhat hoarsely. He began to pass around sheet music. "I'm sure you all know this… I know it may seem an odd choice but she loved the song, and I think if we slowed it down a tad, transposed it up, with minor tweaking we can make it work."_

_Each Warbler present had a different reaction to Blaine as he worked his way through the room. Some patted his shoulder, some spoke gentle words, some chose simply to ignore it, and Jeff and Nick both pulled him into a hug._

"_Your sister KNEW the song?" One of the older members asked in disbelief._

_Blaine nodded gently. "Maegan and I, we both sing. You know what I listen to. I'd… she'd…" He gave up._

_Wes stepped in. "Blaine, do you want to try singing?" A small vague nod and Wes counted the choir in._

And I'd give up forever to touch you

'Cos I know that you feel me somehow.

You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be

And I don't want to go home right now.

And all I can taste is this moment,

And all I can breathe is your life.

'Cos sooner or later it's over.

I just don't want to miss you tonight.

_God, Wes wanted to take the pain away. What was it about him? God must have put way too much caring in his genetic line somewhere. Wes could see all the pain in Blaine's eyes. And he just wanted to hold the boy, to reassure him, to bring Sarah back again, even if just for a little while. What had she done in a past life to deserve that fate? And what had Blaine done to deserve his?_

And I don't want the world to see me

'Cos I don't think that they'd understand.

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am.

_Such cynical words. From such a young person. Youth may be wasted on the young, but in Blaine's case it was cruelly held hostage by his father. Wes didn't know the full extent, he didn't _want_ to know the full extent of Blaine's homelife and how screwed up he'd be in the future. He already couldn't stand to seem vulnerable or hurt in any way. And it was heart breaking. How could someone ever get better when they won't allow themselves, let alone anyone else, in?_

And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming,

Or the moment of truth in your lies.

When everything feels like the movies,

Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive.

_Oh, there were tears alright. Not as many as you might expect, but then again, Blaine was known for his poker face. But by holding back his emotion… Blaine wasn't just putting on that façade for everyone else. He was trying to convince himself that he was okay. Such a common lie – I'm okay. Wes hadn't heard that line be truthfully spoken in years._

And I don't want the world to see me

'Cos I don't think that they'd understand.

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am.

_Blaine and Maegan sung the final chorus together, the Warblers virtually silently humming underneath them. This was going to sound amazing, even if they only had two more days to practise. None of them would ever forget this moment – they could feel how special the lost little girl was, and like a family they banded around Blaine and his sister, each one knowing they would do whatever it took to help them find some small sense of normality._

* * *

><p>Blaine was crying again. "I'm such a sissy," he wailed. "God, just… you all came and you sang and it was beautiful, it was just what she deserved, and I will never forget it. Ever."<p>

Wes passed him a handkerchief. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Blaine nodded. "I'll need help though, you might need to speak for me in certain parts."

The circle all nodded, sitting forward so they could all see each other.

Blaine sneezed, then opened his mouth and began to hoarsely recount the details.

* * *

><p><em>Blaine and Maegan stood at the front of the altar, dressed not in the traditional black but in the brightest clothes they could possibly find hidden in their wardrobes. Sarah wouldn't have wanted black. Even at five years of age she was the brightest, happiest creature ever. She deserved to have a service that reflected her beauty, that celebrated her life, rather than mourning what the living falsely hope will never happen to them.<em>

_Mr and Mrs Anderson were somewhere. Probably dressed in black. They'd have to show up for their daughter's funeral. But Blaine didn't care where they were – this service was entirely his and Maegan's creation, and nothing could screw it up. Not even unwanted visitors or attention._

_The Warblers were filling the front three pews, and weren't they a sight to see! They had opted out of the traditional red tie and blue piping – instead each member was decked entirely in one colour, and of a different colour to the person next to them, so the choir made up an entire rainbow. Blaine could feel himself tearing up already._

"_Pull yourself together, you twat." Jeff appeared at his elbow. Blaine swatted at him before resting his forehead on the younger boy's shoulder. _

"_Yeah, no one's ever going to want to give you a solo again if you cry the entire way through!" Nick appeared at his other side, and Blaine coughed a small laugh._

_Maegan pulled at Blaine's hand, staring straight at the minister. "It's starting. Let's go sit down."_

_Blaine was sure the service itself was lovely. He could remember planning various readings and memories, asking a heap of people to speak. But he couldn't remember any of this actually occurring._

_He did, however, remember standing in front of that microphone, on the small step, placing his papers down on the stand. Glancing out into the pews, seeing them almost full of his friends and his sister's friends. He started to look for his parents but then realised he was meant to be speaking._

"Sarah. I love you. It's so clichéd, yet those three words are never enough, never repeated often enough. I should have been there. I should have told you them every day. I know you knew it. I know that wherever you are now, you still do.

"Look, Sarah. Look at all these people. All these people loved you. All these people would have protected you, guided you.

"I'm meant to stand here and tell some funny stories about you and help others to remember you. But I'm not going to do that. How can you, when your sister is stolen before she can do long division? Yeah, you were your own person, and still are, but no amount of stories can ever capture that. So I won't insult your intelligence by trying to do that now.

"And I know you're somewhere out there, somewhere far away. I can feel you watching me. You're here now. Whether it's your spirit or your memory, I don't know. Give me strength, Sarah.

"You know, Maegan and I, we sat down to start planning and you know what we thought of first? No tears. No crying. No unhappy things. You aren't really gone. You will always live on in our memories – until the time comes when we open that door and see you again, for real, for eternity. I don't know what is out there, Sarah. But I know it must be pretty good, otherwise we'd have been allowed to keep you a little longer.

"So I'm writing this… Actually I'm reading this, there's a note here that reminded me to say reading, not writing… Um, where was I? Yes. I'm reading it and I know I'm not going to be able to last much longer with a steady voice. So I want to end with a poem. It might be a bit complex for you, my darling. But it's true.

"So here you go.

Do not stand at my grave and weep

I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am the thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumnal rain.

When you waken in the morning hush

I am the soft uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry.

I am not there. I did not die.

"Thank you, Sarah, for being who you were. I am such a better person because of you. Until we meet again."

_And then the tears began to fall, slowly at first, then faster, gaining momentum as he collapsed into his seat, a complete mess. The Warblers crowded around him, all finding some way or another to let him know they were there for him._

_Finally he calmed down and it was ending. Blaine was slowly picking out chords on the guitar while his tearful sister stood beside the tiny casket, singing._

When I would play my song,

You used to sing along.

I always seem to forget

How fragile are the very strong.

I'm sorry I can't steal you,

I'm sorry I can't stay.

So I put band-aids on your knees

And watch you fly away.

_Such a small person. No longer would they have to take care of her. No longer would they see her run around, tell a funny story, sing a song from Sesame Street. No longer would they pick her up when she fell, kiss away her tears, clean her open wounds._

I'm sending you away tonight.

I'll put you on a bird's strong wing.

I'm saving you the best way I know how.

I hope again one day to hear you sing.

_Blaine's voice joined with Maegan's in her melancholy. Yet there were no tears. Both of them knew that she was only gone for a little while. They would most definitely meet again – maybe in a week, a decade, a century. However long it took, she would be waiting for them. And they would sing in heaven._

You know we're not so far away…

Get on a boat, get on a train.

And if you ever think you're drowning

I'll try to slow the rain.

In two years or so,

Drop me a line, write me a letter.

I hope to find you're doing better, better than today, better everyday.

_Really, how far was heaven? Who knew how much time there was left? And Sarah would always be with them, watching them from her cloud in the pearly gates. And now she was in a place where her father could never hurt her. Like Eric Clapton so famously wrote, there are no tears in heaven._

I'm sending you away tonight.

I'll put you on a bird's strong wing.

I'm saving you the best way I know how.

I hope again one day to hear you sing.

I'm saving you the only way that I know how.

I hope again one day to hear you sing.

I hope again one day to see you bring your smile back around again.

_Maegan and Blaine glanced at each other, giving weak smiles. The service was over. They were both completely emotionally drained. But they had said goodbye. And now it was time for both of them to move forwards, to start rebuilding themselves a future. They had their whole precious lives ahead of them – and both planned to take advantage of that fact._

* * *

><p>Blaine finally looked up, seeking Kurt's eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier."<p>

Kurt rubbed his back. "God, Blaine, you really are incredible, you know that?"

"But I'm broken…" he whispered.

Kurt smiled back, leaning closer. "Everything is made to be broken, Blaine. I'm broken. Nick is broken. David is broken. We all are. But only with those broken parts can we begin to fix someone else."

* * *

><p><strong>Nice long chapter for you tonight! I was writing and it was just so cathartic and so on it stretched...<br>**

**First song is Back to Life, by Eddie Perfect. Yes, I just insinuated he and Jeff are related. Second is Iris, by the Goo Goo Dolls. Last one is A Bird's Song by Ingrid Michaelson. And honestly, this song is just so perfect, I can't believe I found it!**

**I mentioned a mash-up last chapter? Well, I'm totally breaking the rules here, but if you want to listen to it, I've uploaded it here: pi-on-a-skateboard. tumblr. com / post / 13910640396 / hey-tumblrites-hopefully-this-works-tonight** (without the spaces)

**So I have crazy work around now, so my apologies if it's awhile before another update.**

**Ooooh, I saw Glee. I was pretty happy with it. I... may have cried MANY TIMES throughout the entire episode (starting with Sam 5 minutes in...) but it was wonderful!**

**Now, I feel slightly guilty. Because I'm always rambling on about my life, but I really don't know a whole lot about you guys. Who are you? Where are you from? What do you do with yourself in your spare time? I'd LOVE to actually get to know my readers better. So feel free to review or PM or hit up my Ask on Tumblr and introduce yourself!**

**I should probably throw in a disclaimer here, I think it's been awhile. But if you guys still think I own Glee or music there is something wrong with you :P That being said, the mash-up is my voice and my piano playing, but I don't think anyone else would particularly want to claim that - and the music and lyrics are very much stolen!  
><strong>

**Thanks to everyone, especially Falling. Through. Wonderland, Different Child, xXLittle Rose AngelXx, riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795, Brook-Lucas-Fan-23 and Lalice of Roses. I'm sure you know why!**

**Love it? Hate it? Want me to let my BRAND NEW PUPPY DOG (name of Gatsby) loose on the computer so it dies and I can no longer publish for you? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	20. You Might Get Baked Into A Pie

"Kurt! Earth to Kurt!" Jeff's authoritative whisper – hey, he hadn't become corporal back home without the ability to demand attention – split the air. But the Australian was anything but angry, eyes twinkling joyfully as he glanced at the pair huddled on the couch. Kurt was running his fingers through Blaine's free ringlets while the boy slept on his lap, a dreamy expression colouring his faraway eyes. They were totally in a relationship now – they might not realise it, but no matter what term you gave it, only one word could describe what they had – love. It would take awhile – Blaine was only just learning how to feel again, and Kurt had his own demons to face – but they would get there. And they would last the distance.

"Kurt! Can you drive manual?" Kurt looked up briefly, shaking his head before turning back to the sleeping boy. "Beauty! I call dibs on the Mustang!" Jeff's grin widened in excitement as he forced his attention back to Wes and David, who were singing a mash up of Tainted Love and SOS.

It was actually quite a sight to see. David was staring at Wes with intensity burning like a laser from his pupils.

_I'm the question and you're, of course, the answer._

_Hold me close, boy, cos I'm your tiny dancer._

Meanwhile Wes, fatigue finally beginning to set in, was scarcely managing to stay in tune due to laughter as he answered.

_The love we share_

_Seems to go nowhere,_

_And I've lost my light – _

_Boy, I toss and turn, I can't sleep at night!_

Jeff tried to focus and critique, he really did. But Nick's warm hand was in his, fingers interlaced and thumb creating soft friction circles – and that last squeeze couldn't be ignored.

"What's up?"

Nick looked pointedly at the couch. "I'm calling shotgun on his Mustang. They can go in the bus – Kurt deserves the proper initiation. Also, I love you, have I ever mentioned that?"

Jeff looked around furtively before planting a kiss on his boyfriend's hand. "I think it's come up in conversation before, yeah."

"Kurt's good for him." Nick rested his head on the blonde's shoulder.

"Just like you're good for me," Jeff replied, pulling an arm around Nick's waist before forcing his eyes back to the lead council members. Wes appeared to be weeping hysterically into David's shoulder, sputtering something about ex-girlfriends and timpani mallets never being an appropriate substitute for a good gavel.

"I love their epic bromance," Nick admitted. "It's like ours used to be…"

"Yeah, only they're both straight. Sure, Wes may be… experimenting… with certain unnamed inanimate objects, but he's as straight as Blaine's tie at 9 am on a Monday morning, I'm sure of it."

"Says the guy who until 6 months ago thought _I_ was straight!" Nick teased him.

"Thank God you took me to see Avenue Q, otherwise I'd probably still be none the wiser," Jeff returned, half seriously.

Someone cleared their throat loudly and the boys jumped. "So much PDA…" Thad was rambling, looking somewhat sickened. "Guys, it's time to leave. It'll take a couple of hours to get to Lima, and we have to rehearse with New Directions as well."

Wes had somehow managed to pull himself together again. "Seeing how I pulled what was basically an all-nighter last night, I'm not driving us down. Instead Mr Pedy has kindly consented to the 4 hours total torture we're sure to inflict on him. I really don't want to do the whole little kid thing, but guys, pair up and boarders, make sure you get your names ticked off before you get on." He waved Elizabeth threateningly before grinning. "Remember that this will be Kurt's first time on a Warbler bus. I hope we, uh, give him a proper welcome!"

Jeff turned to look at Kurt. "Someone always drives down separately in case something happens. Usually it's Blaine and his baby, but I don't think that's an option tonight. So I'll take Nick and you get your fine arse on that bus. I'll give you some advice though… Don't question it."

"Don't question it?"

"Yep. Do the exact opposite of that and you'll be fine."

Kurt rolled his eyes. Did the Warblers ever really make sense? "I… Help me wake him?"

Jeff cackled. "Nah, mate. Carry him out. Show us your muscles!"

Kurt sighed. He didn't really want to wake Blaine if he could avoid it, not when he was so sick. But could he carry him? Would that be overstepping the boundaries?

"He fell asleep on you, Kurt, after confessing part of his hidden life. I don't think he'll care." Holy crap, was Jeff psychic? "And no, I can't read minds, you're just ridiculously easy to read," Jeff teased.

Kurt stuck out his tongue at the boy, before getting to his feet, cradling Blaine in his arms. Blaine immediately wrapped his hands around Kurt, clinging on tightly.

"He's like a koala bear!" Kurt complained, staggering slightly out the door.

Jeff froze. "What did you say?"

Nick motioned frantically, bringing his hand across his neck in a straight line – STOP. But Kurt missed it. "Look at him clinging! Just like a koala bear!"

"They. Are. Not. BEARS!" Jeff whispered harshly, hands beginning to shake.

"Jeff. Look at me." Nick pulled him around. "It's okay."

"But… they AREN'T BEARS!"

"I know, sweetie, I know." Nick tried to soothe him. "Kurt, get out of here."

Kurt took his chance and quickened his step.

"They're marsupials, Nick! Not bears!" Jeff was ranting. Nick only had one option if he wanted to avoid a 2 hour lecture on the subject. So he kissed Jeff.

Kurt turned around in the sudden silence, catching sight of the boys. Well, if they could do it, so could he and Blaine. One day. Hopefully not too far in the future. He began to hum.

_One fine day, you're going to want me for your girl…_

* * *

><p>They'd barely been 5 minutes on the bus, scrunched up bits of paper flying through the air like any normal school trip, when they pulled off the freeway and the engine died with a loud shudder. Blaine stretched and groaned. "Where are we?"<p>

"Alright, my dear children," Mr Pedy's cackling voice filled the loudspeaker. "Now that I've got your attention… Got you shivering with antici…."

The silence stretched on and on.

"…."

Kurt looked at Blaine, who was slowly coming to his senses again. Looking around, he found Trent's eyes, which were darting about with fear. Wes and David were in front, teeth flashing in the dim light filtering through the tinted windows.

"….."

There was static over the PA. Actual static. No feedback though, thank God. Kurt rather liked his hearing.

"….."

Where were they? They couldn't be more than a few miles from Dalton. Perhaps he could break a window…

"….."

Goddamit! When was that word going to end?

"…. pation. I've been told you all have a new member. Could he come up to the front of the bus, please?"

Kurt shuddered, finding Blaine's eyes. Blaine squeezed his hand. "Go on, Kurt," he whispered. "Just… don't question it, go with your gut, and you'll be fine." So apparently this was normal behaviour? Kurt always assumed the general lack of teachers was for their safety – especially when dealing with the Warblers – but perhaps it was the other way round? He unclipped his seatbelt and made his way down the aisle.

"Very good, Kurt." The man simpered. He was quite odd, looking at him, especially in the dank metal cavern. His clothes, all black of course, blended into the faux-leather seat beautifully, and his severe make-up made him seem even more ghostly than before. "Now, the bus will not leave until you have answered me these questions three. Can you do that for me, Kurt?"

Kurt was confused. Did that count as a question? "Yes, sir, I believe I can."

"Good boy!" The teacher clapped his hands enthusiastically. "Now, what's up?"

Kurt frowned. "My blood pressure."

There was a small laugh. "Very good! The force is strong in this one! Your next question: what does your heart desire most?"

Kurt looked around, biting his lip. He honestly had no idea. He'd been focusing so hard on staying alive, not getting beaten to a pulp, keeping his father healthy, and then in keeping up with the work at Dalton… He looked over at Blaine, who was mouthing, "Your gut! Trust your gut!" And then he knew. "To love, and be loved in return."

"Awwww, how cute," Mr Pefy drawled. "Are you ready for your final question?"

Kurt nodded.

"What is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?"

Kurt had to laugh at that. "An African or European swallow?"

There was a sharp intake of breath around the bus as the question left his mouth. But Mr Pedy just cackled again and turned on the engine. "Very good. You have passed my test."

Kurt started back to his seat.

"But wait! That is not all you must do for me tonight, my dear fellow!" Damn it. "There is a tradition on this bus which we must honour. Wes, David, Thad, if you would join me, please."

The three aforementioned boys jumped up and made their way to the driver. Wes turned around to face the choir. "Now, Kurt, your task here is simple. The ability to improvise is essential when you sing the way we do. So we shall sing our time-honoured song. All you must do is to create a part on top of it – and sell it. It can be easier or more difficult because of your range. But I have faith in you."

David clapped him on the back. "We've all done this. This is sort of our go-to song. We'll probably end up using it tonight."

Thad felt compelled to speak as well. "Kurt, you really are amazing. Your voice is so unique, you have such an incredible presence and musicality. Like before, do not question it – you'll know what to do when it comes to it."

Wes pulled out his pitch-pipe and counted the boys in, as the three council lead the charge, with Thad dropping out to take the first verse.

_Well, I would like to reach out my hand._

_I may see you, I may tell you to run._

_You know what they say about the young._

Ah. The song from Matilda! Kurt knew it, and thought frantically as he listened to the backing vocals, wondering what he could possibly do to lift it.

David continued the verse, his donned accent sounding incredibly authentic.

_Well, pick me up with golden hands._

_I may see you, I may tell you to run._

_You know what they say about the young._

Kurt had an idea. But would it work? He'd have to wait for the ending of the chorus to properly try it out.

Wes was up next, complete with actions and crazy expressions.

_Well, I would like to hold my little hand._

_We will run, we will,_

_And we will crawl, we will._

_I would like to hold my little hand._

_And we will run, we will._

_And we will crawl!_

_Send me on my way!_

As Wes sang the final line Kurt drew in a large breath. He could do this. He begun to improvise on top.

_Ra-ra-ra-a-ah_

_Roma-Roma-ma_

_Gaga, ooh la la!_

_Want your bad romance!_

The bus broke into cheers. Of course. Only Kurt could bring Lady Gaga into world rock and sell it so well!

"Well, that settles it," Wes cheered. "Send Me On My Way, featuring the vocal stylings of one Kurt Hummel, is going to be a HIT at Breadstix tonight!"

The boys took their seats again as Mr Pedy began humming Cecilia, leading them in a massive 2 hour jam session/practise. Kurt was still smiling as he supported Blaine off the bus and was immediately assaulted by a large cry of "SPIES!" and the onslaught of a hug from 7 New Direction females.

"It's great to see you too, Rachel."

* * *

><p><strong>Two mash ups in one chapter? What is the world coming to?<strong> **I was listening to the Dear Abbeys version of Send Me On My Way (originally by Rusted Root) and I had Bad Romance stuck in my head and they actually seemed to fit pretty nicely with virtually no manipulation. So I thought I may as well. :P**

**Hmm... Well, there's lots of allusions in here, and I'm not going to bother counting them all. But go try and find them! Hunt, my pretties, hunt! Also, the title - I will cry tears of joy if someone recognises it!**

**So I was meant to be working tonight. But I got there and somewhere they'd screwed up and double-booked. Which was really funny, really, because I'd started writing on the train (as you do) and really didn't want to stop. And I got 3 hours pay for 4 hours travel time (when I would have been doing a sleepover shift - 9.5 hours total plus sleep time). But I got to come and write for you and I'm actually going to get some good sleep tonight. Plus I won't need to fill any incident reports tonight! :D  
><strong>

**Thanks again to my lovely amazing wonderful readers, subscribers and reviewers. Maybe I over-react but honestly, I can't believe I got over 5 reviews, let alone a massive 87 at this current moment in time! It's wonderful to hear from you guys, and if I'm ever stuck for writing I go look at them, and that typically seems to motivate/inspire me! :D Shout outs to Falling. Through. Wonderland, ****Brook-Lucas-Fan-23, the lovely anon who I apparently turned from stone to fabric, and riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795. Actually, a massive shout-out to **riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795**, I read one of her Niff drabbles on the train (which are absolutely lovely and amazing and sad and funny and you should all go read them NOW!) and I think that may have inspired that little Niff fluff I chucked in. Hope it's okay!**

**Oh. Apparently my crazy puppy dog (who's been going beserk in the rain!) found a snail and my sister (who is 8) wants to keep it... I have one very odd family. Though cute. My doggy, he's 8 weeks old. Golden retriever puppy. He looks like a polar bear and he's wonderful and awwwwwwwwwwww.**

**Oooh, forgot to mention. Mr Pedy. I've used him before in another story, he subbed for Mr Schuester and took New Directions. He's very loosely based on a combination of Alice Cooper and an old teacher of mine, and he really is a heap of fun to write, so I thought I might bring him back. What do you guys think?  
><strong>

**Uh... yeah... Enough rambling for a night? I actually don't know why I'm in such a weird mood. Probably because I'm so tired. Or because work does that to me. Or because it got to 38 degrees (100 for you Americans) yesterday and was still ridiculously hot today before it started pissing down with rain. Because that's just what the weather does where I'm from.**

**DUDE. YOU SAID NO RAMBLING! LEAVE THE POOR PEOPLE ALONE!**

**Or maybe it was the candy-canes. Better go up my insulin :P**

**Love it? Hate it? Want me to be sucked into the television screen until Neville Longbottom comes and kicks the crap out of it and releases me back into the wild? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	21. Stop! Hammertime!

"Kurt!"

"Yay! My little koala!" Brittany jumped up and down like a seal.

"Koalas are just gay polar bears, apparently," Finn explained, clapping his brother on the shoulder.

Kurt cocked an eyebrow at the blonde cheerleader. "Don't let Jeff hear that unless you want to get mauled by one," he warned her.

"Hummel. I see you've still got quite the case of the Nick Carraway's; you'd think someone around here would have replaced that pole up your ass for something much more fun."

Kurt felt the Warblers tense behind him and move into protection mode, but Kurt just laughed. "Santana, I'm just amazed you've actually read _The Great Gatsby_… and are insinuating I'm straight no matter how effeminate I may be." He kicked open the door, gazing at his old choir room in wonder. "Now, ladies, let me free my arms" – both were shielding an ever-so-slightly more awake Blaine – "and I'll be able to greet you properly."

"Wanky," Santana teased.

Kurt stuck his tongue out, depositing Blaine in one of the chairs fronting the 'stage'. "Alright, I know you're going to want to start making up fictional shipping names for each other as soon as possible so I'll introduce the key players. Now, raise your hand when I call your name!" The group laughed. "Alright, from the Warblers, we have: Blaine, Nick, Jeff, Thad, Callum, Andrew, Trent, Wes and David. The others can introduce themselves – remarkable though they are, no one really seems to bother to actually learn their names." The remaining boys shrugged. "From New Directions: Rachel, Finn, Quinn, Puck, Brittany, Santana, Artie, Mike, Sam, Mercedes, Tina… Anyone I've forgotten?"

Tina raised a hand. "Can we give Kurt a round of applause? Firstly, for actually organising us all, but, more importantly, for not forgetting my existance?"

Kurt blushed as all his friends clapped and cheered. Then Wes stood up, moving to the front of the group, that air of authority surrounding him. "Right. We have a lot of work to do. I've got draft running sheets here, we've got time for one run-through really. So if you know your song and know it well, you need only do a verse. Group numbers and numbers with the mixed members may need more time, as with any intricate performances. Keep in mind also that Blaine, our lead soloist" – Wes nodded to the side as the sophomore fell into a sneezing fit – "is a little under the weather… We may need your help to fill some of his songs."

Rachel jumped up, clapping her hands. "Well, as I've so generously given up many opportunities at solos today to showcase some of the more silent talents of the group" – Kurt gave her a look, wondering what they'd had to bribe or blackmail her with – "I'm more than happy to step in at a moment's notice."

The Warblers stared at her as she blushed and sat back down. "Rachel… you haven't sung a cappella before, have you?" Kurt finally took pity on the girl, though he couldn't manage to wipe the condescending tone reserved especially for her from his words. "It's a bit different to New Directions. You actually have to blend with everyone else, and listen to them. If their pitch should happen to change, you have to follow it. It's very much an all-for-one-one-for-all gig…"

An awkward silence fell until Wes looked at his watch and cursed. "Three hours to showtime, guys! We need to get moving! Warblers, up!" He turned to Blaine. "How's your low register going?"

Blaine shook his head. "Only one way to find out…"

The Warblers got into formation, beginning their intro as Blaine slowly forced himself to his feet. He'd managed to stand in front of them just in time, face pale but sultry as he began to channel his inner country star.

_When you came in the air went out_

_And every shadow filled up with a doubt._

_I don't know who you think you are_

_But before the night is through,_

_I want to do bad things with you._

Kurt looked into Blaine's eyes, seeing him turn red as he tried desperately to hold his pitch – then his voice cracked on the last note and he bent over, coughing. Kurt and Wes rushed over to him, both worried.

"Guys, I'm okay…" Blaine choked out. "But I don't think singing that is a good idea…"

"No…" Wes looked thoughtful. "Does New Directions have any basses?"

Kurt looked around. "Well… Finn has a scarily deep range, I've heard him in the shower." There was a crash as the gangly teen, jumping as he heard his name from the other end of the room, knocked over a music stand and in his haste to catch it hit the guitar instead. "But probably not the best idea…" He frowned in thought, an idea beginning to form. Then he clicked his fingers. "Santana!"

The Latina jumped up, blowing a kiss over her shoulder to a very upset Thad. "You rang…?"

Kurt smiled. "I have a job for you. How'd you like to strut in front of 15 teenage boys?"

"There are plenty of other things I'd rather do with said men-in-uniform," she drawled. "But I suppose I can give it a go. Anything to stop Berry hogging the limelight."

"Um. Hello?" Rachel had decided to further add to the confusion and wandered over, tapping Wes on the shoulder. "I'm going to ignore what poor ignorant girl is implying about myself, it's pretty clear she's jealous of my talent. But you should give him" – she gestured to Blaine – "ice water."

"Rachel… You do know the point of _warm_-ups, right?" Kurt turned to her, rubbing Blaine's back as he struggled for air. "I'll give you a hint – it's not to freeze your vocal cords off."

"Must I explain everything to you?" Rachel pouted.

"But... that's like vocal-suicide, Rachel," Kurt pointed out. "Throat goes numb, pitch control fails."

Rachel shook her head, trying to draw herself up to full height - which, admittedly, was only around Kurt's shoulder. "Throat goes numb, voice stops hurting."

Wes was looking thoughtful, while his eyes followed the quabbling between the two divas. "That might actually work…"

"Trust me, I've been winning singing competitions since I was 6 months old," she professed. "As for the coughing, I can't give you anything you haven't already tried…"

Blaine nodded. "It'll help the swelling, at the very least."

"Fine," Kurt concluded in a huff. "Wes, can you run through that with them, perhaps down a tone and a half? I'll help Blaine."

Wes nodded, and before Kurt knew it he was proudly watching New Directions mingle with the Warblers, as Santana began to rasp soulfully over the boy's backing harmonies, strutting like a model and pursing her lips and flirting with everyone in the room – especially, Kurt filed away for future reference, with Brittany.

_I'm not the kind to sit up in his room,_

_Heartsickened, eyes filled up with gloom._

_I don't know what you've done to me_

_But I know this much is true – _

_I want to do bad things with you, okay?_

Kurt bit back a laugh as Thad began to cry like a wolf. Then he turned to Blaine, whose coughing had finally subsided but was as close to lying as one could be in an upright chair, watery eyes starting to go blank.

"Blaine…? Are you alright?"

It took a moment before Blaine finally shook himself awake. "Sorry, K-Kurt. I think I need sugar…"

Kurt groaned. There had been plenty on the bus... How sick was Blaine really? Why was nothing working? How much longer would they just sit there, pumping him full of candy until something finally worked? "None on you?"

The boy shook his head sorrowfully.

"Artie!" Kurt called out before turning back to Blaine. "Blaine, I'll go get you something, it'll help your throat too, but I have to leave you for a few minutes. Is that okay?"

Blaine slowly nodded. "Hurry."

Artie wheeled himself over. "Yo, dudes, what's happening?"

Kurt brought himself down to eye level. "Blaine's not feeling well. I've gotta go grab some of the stuff he needs. Would you mind keeping an eye on him for a few minutes for me? Just keep talking to him. Don't let him fall asleep."

Artie frowned, but nodded. "Of course, Kurt." As the countertenor all but sprinted out the room, Artie turned himself to face Blaine. "So, man, can you tell me the answer to life, the universe and everything?"

* * *

><p><strong>Hi guys! Sorry it's been so long... I've had crazy work and a crazy time lately so I'm exhausted, in pretty much every way possible. And, to make matters worse, my own blood sugar's been running low for so long I'm starting to lose my sensitivity, which is slightly scary. But it's okay. I'll get through the next few weeks and then work will die down. And I'll be eating crazy stuff at Chrissy so BSL's should normal out again. :D<strong>

**Yeah. But that's my explanation for this chapter.**

**Wow... Deja vu. Like, crazy...**

**But yes. I'm tired and not thinking straight and I really just wanted to get this down... I had a random case of writer's block (hey, it's bound to happen sometime) and I wasn't really sure how to move it forward. But at least you have something. And I really like the idea of a Blartie bromance.**

**Oh. And seriously. Just imagine Blaine/Darren singing Bad Things (Jace Everett... apparently it's the theme to True Blood, or something along those lines?) I really want the Warblers to perform this. And then Santana singing it popped into my head (cos she's amazing like that) and seriously, she would be amazing with Warblers backing her up.**

**Chucking in disclaimers, which I really should do often enough, but you're sadly deluded if you still think I actually own anything more than an infinite collection of monkeys and typewriters.**

**I will say, in the last five days or so, I wrote a five-and-one starring Wes. The and-one is very angsty, and I'm actually quite proud of it - especially the writing. It's a lot like how I used to write back in school, when I did amazingly in English. As opposed to now when I honestly haven't read a book in about 6 months... Link's on my page, if you're interested at all.  
><strong>

**Thanks to everyone who reads and subscribes and reviews! Shout outs to Different Child (and my apologies for not replying, I haven't had the energy, but they have been read I promise), xXLittle RoseAngelXx who JUST posted a WONDERFUL Klaine and meddling Wevid five-and-one which you should all go read now, Cutiepi97, Brook-Lucas-Fan-23, riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795, and Lalice of Roses! Love you all!**

**Love it? Hate it? Want my fingers to be coated in invisibility ink which is accompanied by a failure in proprioception, thus rendering my ability to type completely useless and as such I cannot post more? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	22. Alarm a Llama Llama DUCK!

"Artie?"

"Yes, Blaine?"

"I'm Blaine."

"I know, dude."

This sort of exchange had been going on for only about ten minutes, but to Artie it felt like hours.

"Artie?"

"Wassup?"

Blaine looked at him, grinning. "Can I have a ride in your wheelchair?"

Artie had never thought he could appreciate having Brittany as a girlfriend more than he did right that very moment. So he smiled back apologetically. "Sorry, Blaine. But everyone else here will get jealous, and they'll start fighting, and then the world will implode. We don't want that to happen, do we, yo?"

Blaine stared downwards, and Artie was struck by his sudden resemblance to a kicked puppy. But then he smiled again. "Artie?"

"Yeah, bro?"

"I have low blood sugar. But don't tell Blaine I told you that. He doesn't like people knowing."

Artie drew a hand across his lips, before miming locking a key and throwing it out the door. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Hey, Artie?"

On second thought, this was actually worse than Brittany. "What's hanging?"

"Where's Kurt? And David and Wes? Where are _we_?" Blaine's goofy smile had drooped as he started fading out of (what could only just pass as) coherence again.

"Kurt's getting medicine or something, I don't know. You're at McKinley High." The boy reassured him. "David's over there, with Quinn – the pretty blonde girl."

They both looked up, watching them twirl with most of the Warblers grooving behind them and the Cheerios dancing with various boys from both schools. Mike, Brittany and a European-looking boy he thought might be called Thad were watching the lead pair closely – "Straight back, Quinn, that's perfect!", "David! Pitch! You are not a highly trained llama in the circus, you have control over those vocal cords!" – as they perfected their choreography and harmonies.

"Artie Artie Artie Artie Artie?"

Seriously, how was he older than a first grader? "Hit me, man."

"You're too far away." Blaine looked confused. "And the ducks that live in the piano are trying to get me to sing Christmas carols. My throat hurts, Artie. I don't want to sing."

Artie sighed, feeling his patience start to float away. "Tell them, Blaine."

"Thanks, man! Great idea!" Blaine stared at the grand piano.

"Artie!"

Artie jumped, whipping his head round to find the lead Warbler crouching beside him, a smile fighting valiantly to appear on his face, nose scrunching. "Bro, don't do that to me!"

"He's quite the handful, isn't he?" Wes tilted his head at Blaine, who was now staring blankly ahead, shredding a tissue in his hands, whispering the lyrics to _Tribute_.

Artie nodded. "I don't envy you!"

Wes yawned. "It doesn't happen too often, thank God, only once a month or so."

Artie looked up at Wes, finally taking in the pallor hiding behind his freckles, the dark shadows bruising his hollow eyes, the infinitesimal swaying. "You okay, man?"

Wes blinked. "Yeah, fine, thanks," he brushed it off. "Anyway, we were thinking we'd run through your number next, so I thought I'd offer myself as babysitter. Kurt also seems to think that Nick, that brunette nice and cosy with the Australian there" – he waved a hand at the couple standing by the drum-kit, staring deep into each other's eyes – "would blend well with you, so you may as well organise harmonies and choreography and whatever else you need."

"Thank God. I was considering taking him for 'walkies'." Artie smiled gratefully, pushing his glasses up on his nose before patting Blaine on the knee. "Blaine? I have to go sing, okay? But Wes is back!"

"Yay! Wessy!"

Artie burst into laughter at the name, then rolled over to the boys to introduce himself. Wes watched Nick and Jeff jump apart as the boy called out, both crouching down to eye level, shaking hands and beginning to laugh. He couldn't help but feel a bit of pride at his boys, at how they had accepted New Directions and all their… eccentricities… without question. Though, then again, they were the Warblers – not exactly what one might call 'normal' teenagers anyway.

"Wes…?" Blaine's whimper drew him back into the more pressing reality. "Do I have to eat again?"

"I think so, Blaine, I'm sorry." Wes reached around the sophomore for his bag, pulling out the kit. "Time to test your blood sugar?"

Blaine shook his head. "No, Wes. No testing. No eating. I don't want to!"

Wes groaned inwardly at the mood swing – they'd now entered terrible twos stage. Luckily the moods seemed to change pretty rapidly – he'd probably get a shot of glucagon or adrenaline soon and the crazies would kick in again – yet the fact he was arguing meant that his BSL had to be pretty low. "Hey, Blaine, want me to read your palm? See if Kurt likes you?"

Wes watched the confusion on Blaine's face as he tried to process that. "Kurt doesn't like me, Wes."

"Well, if you give me your hand, I'll make it nice and pretty for him. Then he might like you."

Blaine pursed his lips, like the thinking was actually painful – and it probably was, trying to fight through the haze in his brain. Then he gave a toothy smile and stuck his hand out proudly.

"Okay, Blaine! Just a tiny little prick here, we have to waken the skin up first," Wes pushed the lancet, thinking quickly on his feet. "Yep, very good! Now I'm going to squeeze it, to help the blood flow or something like that…" He wiped a smear of blood on the machine and cleaned up Blaine's hand before putting it back on his lap. "All done! Feel better?"

Blaine was looking at him strangely. "Wes, the penguins say that you have no idea what you're doing. They say you're really a dragon pretending to be a person, and that after tonight you're going to eat us all on spaghetti."

Wes was regretting not bringing a camera with him. Someone really ought to record some of the stuff that came pouring out of his mouth sometime…

The machine beeped. **32**. Damn, where was Kurt? Wes began to rummage through Blaine's bag, mentally steeling himself in case he was forced to use glucagon.

As he pulled out the orange case, the doors practically flew off their hinges as Kurt came rushing in, handing Blaine a cup of grape ice.

"Mmm. It tastes of purple," Blaine praised him as he began to slurp it down.

Kurt turned to Wes, relief pouring from both of their eyes. "You know, I never thought I'd see the day where I was glad McKinley owns a slushie machine!"

**Hey guys!**

**OMG. Guess what? I hit 100 reviews! I feel like we need something to celebrate... Virtual champagne and fudgecakes? Well, watch out, there's a heap coming your way!**

**I'm slightly amused by this. That being that I pretty much abuse these notes as a blog and tell you all about my symptoms - and then write them for Blaine - yet ignore them myself. Le sigh. Steph seriously empathises with Blaine currently, because despite the fact that it's an Australian December and 35 C outside (that's about 95F) she managed to get a cold. But no stress, because Blaine is quite a volatile and exaggerated character, whereas Steph is much more normal in every way bar mentally :P  
><strong>

**On the upside, Steph has an extra dose of the crazies today! :D  
><strong>

**And yes. I do commony refer to myself in the third person.**

**So I have work tomorrow and I'm tired, even though it's only 11 PM, so I haven't really bothered to edit or check it that thoroughly. I have a huge list of songs that I want to write in, which I'm trying to cut down, and the epilogue is basically written... Which is really sad, I don't want this to end! But I think I mentioned earlier that I'm continuing this further - it'll basically be a diabetic's interpretation, plus a few extra scenarios and flashbacks and stuff. Same style, same universe, etc.**

**Shout-outs to riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795, xXLittle Rose AngelXx (and your dream sounds AWESOME, I'm totes jealous!), Brook-Lucas-Fan-23, Lalice of Roses, and flower pot girl, with a HUMUNGOUS shout-out to ASiriuslyGleekyTimeLord for the editing help with the previous chapter!**

**You're probably immensely sick of hearing this, but thank you again to all my readers, subscribers and reviewers. I really really appreciate everything!**

**And, oh yeah. I don't own Glee. You'll just have to trust me on this one, I'm sorry.  
><strong>

**Like it? Hate it? Want me to be trampled by a raging herd of horny zebras tomorrow? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	23. When You Turn It Upside Down

Coughing. Again. Wait. Thoughts in one word.

"Kurt… I think I need sugar."

DAMN IT! That stupid stutter. Blaine really hated it. It only happened when he went low. It was a dead giveaway. And sometimes he just tried so hard to form words but the lack of sugar got them caught somewhere.

No. Fading. Must keep thinking! Even if only really short sentences.

Blaine was scared.

Ugh. So sleepy. Head hurts. Nose hurts. Chest hurts. Throat really hurts.

So hot.

Kurt is hot.

Wait. Where did that thought come from?

Okay, so maybe Blaine liked Kurt. Maybe he liked him in a scary-I-met-you-six-months-ago-and-you-are-the-love-of-my-life like.

Or was three months? November 9. Blaine would never forget that day… So… November, January, December, February… No, six months.

That's not right. Ugh. Thoughts not making sense.

Where is he? Where is Wes? He needs Wes. Wes knows what to do.

_Wherever you are, whenever it's right,_

_You'll come out of nowhere and into my life._

_And I know that we can be so amazing…_

Oh. Wes is singing with the Warblers. Wes has a really good jazz voice. The Warblers should do more jazz… Like Kurt. Kurt can sing jazz.

Where is Kurt?

There's some boy here. His name is Artie and he's in a wheelchair and he speaks like David should. Like his and David's souls got mixed up when they were both born and got put in the wrong body or something.

Consciousness slipping away. No. Not allowed to fall asleep. Kurt and Wes both told him that. "No, Blaine, no sleeping." They both said that. So he has to stay awake.

Can Artie help?

It's his blood sugar. Blaine doesn't know how he knows this, but he knows it. "Artie? I have low blood sugar."

Keep talking. If you talk you can't fall asleep.

"Where's Kurt?"

Blaine needs Kurt like he needs air. Or sugar. If he sees Kurt he'll wake up properly.

It's all black. No, there's colour. Lots of colour and light. Too much. He can't see properly.

WHY CAN'T HE SEE OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD

Wait. Wes is here. "Yay, Wessy!" Wessy will save him.

Why is he using that name? Wes hates it? Damn. Why can't Blaine just think before opening his mouth?

Why can't he think at all?

Where did Artie go?

"Kurt doesn't like me, Wes." No. Kurt would be here otherwise. But Kurt ran away. Artie said it was to get medicine. But Blaine doesn't need medicine. Well, he does, he's sick.

"Eshoo! ESHOO!"

See. Sneezing. But medicine doesn't matter.

Blaine needs sugar. "Let's pretend that both our lips are made of candy…"

That was familiar… Where had he heard that? See. Kurt's lips. That would help.

What the hell? Kurt was his friend. Nothing more. He couldn't know. Blaine had already told him too much. Sarah… and his dad… and his diabetes… Blaine didn't want Kurt to have to worry about it. Any of it. But… no… He'd been an idiot and told him.

Blaine hated being diabetic sometimes.

So shaky. Brain so foggy.

He didn't want to eat. All he'd been doing lately was eating. Eating and testing. And then eating more. Because nothing was working.

So warm.

He actually wanted to run high. Just so that he didn't have to eat more.

Wait. Kurt was back! With grape slushies! They were yummy! Yay! Sugar! See. Kurt could look after him.

Oh, God. These thought trains were crazy. But Blaine knew he wouldn't really remember them in a few minutes. When he could think clearly again.

But until then… Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Wait. Kurt had gone somewhere with Santana. Wes was back. And… he could see Wes, quite clearly, in fact, from the slightly drawn expression to the freckles spattered across his nose. And… oh, God, what had he said?

"Hi, Wes."

Wes jumped. "Oh, thank God. You had us worried there, Blaine."

Blaine shook his head. "What did I drop to?"

"I got you at 25 at one point in time," Wes bit his lip. "Is there anything more that we can do? I don't like just sitting here, dosing you up with sugar…"

Blaine frowned, pressing a hand to his temple. "I don't know, Wes. I'll have to call the hospital on Monday, if it hasn't stopped… I should be going high though…"

He glanced across the room to see Kurt and Santana waltzing lively between some of the singers, catching a tiny hint of vocal methamphetamines.

_Angels watching over me with smiles upon their face_

'_Cos I have made it through this far in an unforgiving place_

_It feels sometimes this hill's too steep for a girl like me to climb_

_But I must knock those thoughts right down, I'll do it in my own time _–

Blaine was mesmerised – seriously, who taught Kurt to dance like that? This was… something else. He'd seen Kurt so fragile and broken – especially with the whole Karofsky thing – but give him some music and a good dance beat and he became someone else, oozing confidence… It was kind of sexy, actually.

He felt a warmth in the pit of his stomach and began tingling. Oh, no. Not here. Not now.

Wes cleared his throat. "You really like him, don't you, Blaine?"

_Think of slushies and snow and clowns and cold things. Think of Sarah…_

"I… um… he's my friend, Wes."

"That's not really answering my question, Blaine." Wes stared at him, knowing. "Why don't you tell him?"

Blaine blinked, shaking his head. There was a reason… "You never tell someone you like them, it makes you look like an idiot!" … Wait. Why was he quoting AVPM? No. He could think for himself. "Kurt knows; I told him last night. But he has enough to be dealing with. I'm not forcing him into a… a relationship. He doesn't need my own crap on top of all that. He deserves so much better than what I can give him."

Wes turned to the side, smothering a laugh. Or was it coughing? "Blaine, honestly, that's one of the most ridiculous things I've ever heard, and I spend pretty much all my time with you and David. He wants _you_, Blaine."

They turned to watch Kurt, who was staring in their direction.

_Whoa, whoa, whoa, you gotta slow it down,_

_Yeah, yeah, yeah, but then you pick it up,_

_Oh, yeah, whoa, come on and try a little_

_Topsy-turvy, back-to-front, the right-way-round._

No way. "How is it _legal_ to do that with your hips?"

Oh, crap. He'd spoken out loud.

"I'm… going to pretend I didn't hear that, Blaine." Wes laughed. "Seriously, man, just talk to him. Better now than never. You can always claim your blood sugar's stopping you from thinking straight."

"You know, his Mom was sick. Before she died. When he was eight." Blaine felt a slight twinge, shutting his eyes. Why was he justifying himself? Was he just looking for a reason out? Because he was scared to open himself up in that way, to trust someone? "He doesn't like needles… How would he deal with a diabetic boyfriend?"

"He tested your blood sugar last night." That wasn't Wes… "He can learn to adjust." Blaine opened his eyes, though he'd know that voice anywhere. There was that perfect pale skin, that flawless hair, those gorgeous innocent blue eyes. Kurt.

Wes jumped up, calling out to Santana to start rehearsing their next song.

"Blaine… I think we need to talk…"

* * *

><p><strong>Okay. My deepest apologies if this makes no sense, <strong>**I'm all feverish and icky so I thought I'd give it a different shot... So at least the first half, it doesn't matter if it's coherent or not :P But I think my thought processes are often like that when I'm low... You can say something completely logical to me and I won't be able to follow it, and sometimes I know that the thought trains I'm on at the time don't make sense, but other times linking emus with potato chips makes complete sense in my head, though no sane person can follow it.  
><strong>

**Songs are _Haven't Met You Yet_ by Michael Buble (shame on you if you didn't know it!) and _Upside Down_ by Paloma Faith. Just because I'm big on the whole Glee-doing-jazz thing. Plus Buble would be amazing performed by the Warblers, and Telly Leung is amazing so I like imagining him singing it :P**

**Um... Yeah, not a whole lot to say tonight. Not sure if I'll be working tomorrow night or not, so you may or may not get an update tomorrow.**

**oifdj fjoiejoaihtoi jij oaifoijs foijafsoias oi a**

**There you go. You need at least one original thought for the night.**

**Thanks again to my amazing readers, subscribers, favouriters and reviewers. Shout outs to xXLittle Rose AngelXx, riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795, ASiriuslyGleekyTimeLord, and Lalice of Roses****. A huge shout-out to annkum over in Sweden, who reviewed basically all my chapters in one night and has been sending me some great questions! **

**Is there anything that you guys want to see in this at all? Just while I think of it...**

**Okay. Sorry about the gun to your head, but you must repeat after me: "pi-on-a-skateboard (or Steph) does not own Glee or anything else recognisable in her fics". Thank you. I know none of you believe me anyway, but hey. :P *Squirts everyone with water*  
><strong>

**Like it? Hate it? Want me to be sucked into Jumanji and then have the board destroyed so I am forever trapped? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	24. A Life in Fear is a Life HalfLived

"You're going to give me _the talk_, Kurt?" Blaine's eyes twinkled. "Hate to burst your bubble there, but Wes and David kinda did that last year. It was horrifying."

But Kurt just put on his bitch face.

"To talk about what?"Blaine suddenly shifted in his seat, no longer daring to look the boy in the eye – though he knew what he'd see anyway. Those eyes, the ones that had captivated him the instant he'd seen them on the staircase, burning fiercely, knowing… He didn't want Kurt knowing his soul. Or, not so much knowing, as having to deal with the monsters that lurked under the silty water, a slimy hand just beneath the surface, ready to grip anyone and anything and suck it under. So, sure, maybe Kurt liked him a little… That didn't mean it was right.

"Oh God, Blaine, let's cut the crap," Kurt demanded, as straight to the point as an assassin's sword. "Look, we can't beat around the bush here. I just… I need to know something."

Blaine was slightly taken aback at the idiom – even he didn't use phrases like that anymore – at least, not since Wes and David had taken him under their wing. Dalton must have already started to have an influence on the countertenor. "Yes…?"

Kurt sighed. "Look, I…" There it was. That hesitation. That slight falter. Kurt was backing away, wasn't he? "I like you. Okay? And I know you like me back, after last night. And, well, all the endless flirting and all that… But… if we're to remain friends, it has to stop. Or, if we're moving into… other territory, shall we say… then we'll need boundaries… But I need to know what's going on."

"Fine. I like you, too." There we go. He'd said it. With a completely clean head, but still no idea what he was doing. "But I can't be your… your boyfriend, if that's what you're asking." He felt tears begin to rise. "Not yet."

Blaine, not wanting his welling eyes to expose his weakness yet again, turned to watch Wes and Santana. They were circling each other, Santana with that perfect mask of Lima-Heights-Adjacent as she shook an admonishing finger at Wes, fluttering her enormous eyelashes.

_Brother says he's tellin'_

'_Bout you playin' doctor with that girl._

_Just don't tell I'll give you_

_Anything you want in this whole world._

Wes, meanwhile, looked shocked as he reached out for her, kept reaching as his hands were playfully batted away.

_Now is the time_

_For you and I to cuddle close together._

_All through the night_

_I'll save you from the terror on the screen._

Blaine was again struck by the talent of his friends. The Warblers were all known for their musicality, their individuality, but they – well, Kurt and Wes, really – had put an entire show together, prepared all the music, even made some of their own arrangements. This was really happening.

Of course, he'd gone and screwed most of it up by getting sick. But, hey. That was what Blaine did. Ruin things. But he didn't want to think about that.

Santana and Wes looked awfully cute together, he had to admit, as the girl finally permitted physical contact. Wes ran a hand down the side of her face, grinning in his triumph as their voices united.

_When you believe in things that you don't understand,_

_Then you suffer;_

_Superstition ain't the way!_

Blaine wondered if he and Kurt ever looked that way together. If they ever could look that way together, enjoying each other's company, flirting mercilessly, no reservations… But they already had. How many times had they just sat in some coffee store or another mucking around? Or running amok with Wes and David through the school halls avoiding homework? Or… But he didn't want to think about that, either.

"Blaine, are you even listening to me?"

Oh. Yeah. Kurt was yelling at him.

"Kurt! Quit pushing me!" Wait… What did he say that for? Kurt wasn't doing anything. Stop trying to scare him away!

"Look, Blaine, I'm not trying to force you into _anything_, okay? Just stop! I know you aren't ready yet." And there he was, thinking he'd been able to hide himself.

"Why are you angry with me? I'm not asking you to wait for me!" Smooth, Blaine. Real smooth. Great way to get the love of your life to understand.

"God, Blaine, you're so frustrating!" Kurt threw his hands in the air, face a little red. "Boys are so stupid!" He dropped into a neighbouring chair with a huff, arms crossed.

Blaine cracked a tiny smile. "So you're not a boy?" He teased gently, trying to break the strain. The last thing any of them needed was a pissed-off Kurt trying to sing Etta James.

Kurt dropped his arms and the intensity of his glare fell slightly.

_Very superstitious, wash your face and hands._

_Rid me of the problem, do all that you can._

_Keep me in a daydream, keep me goin' strong._

_You don't wanna save me, sad is my song._

He turned his attention back to Wes, who was standing behind Santana, arms wrapped around her as he pulled her close, miming along with her arms, almost reminiscent of Patrick Swayze. The girl leant back, nuzzling her hair into his neck, face absolutely glowing as this time she harmonised on top.

_Cos this is thriller, thriller night._

_Cos I can thrill you more than any ghost would ever dare try._

_Thriller, thriller night._

_So let me hold you tight and share a_

_Chiller, thriller tonight!_

Blaine yanked his attention back to Kurt as he heard the clearing of a throat. He glanced over and saw a hollow smile creeping over the boy's face, probably lost somewhere in nostalgia.

"You miss them, don't you?"

Kurt nodded. "Blaine, I'm sorry I got mad."

"Wait, what? Let me get my tape recorder ready so I can have proof this moment actually occurred…" Blaine giggled. "Ow!" Kurt had slapped his arm.

"Yeah, it's not happening again. But… look, don't take this the wrong way, but what are you so afraid of?"

Blaine went silent. He really did not want to answer that question. It wasn't so much a matter of trust – though that was partly it. But Blaine was a mess. His life was in absolute shambles and somehow he was only just managing to cling on. Plus there were the mistakes he kept making, never seeming to learn from his past. And his old self kept resurfacing, only each memory brought more terror, like the time it spent hidden had magnified it exponentially. "I'm afraid of feeling."

"Feeling? Feeling what? Feeling happy? You don't have to punish yourself, Blaine."

Blaine buried his face in his hands. "You remember what I said about everything been dulled down? It's not the good that scares me – I'm actually looking forward to that. It's _any_ sort of emotion that worries me. Because as soon as I start opening myself up again, bad things start happening, especially to those around me. And I become needy and selfish and depressed, and… well, I don't want it to happen, but especially to you, Kurt."

_When you believe in things that you don't understand_

_And then you suffer…_

_Superstition ain't the way!_

Blaine's eyes flicked to Wes and then sought out David, remembering when they'd first befriended him. All the crap that he'd put them through. The long nights in one of their bedrooms, their shoulders as he rested his head, their slow voices calming him after a nightmare, the pain and worry in their eyes after an episode, even the many he'd managed to treat himself… Sure, they'd never run away – someone had always been there for him. And sure, they all had their own crap, too. But Kurt was different. Not fragile, not in any way – but how Blaine felt around Kurt was completely different. He had to protect the boy. Especially from himself. He couldn't bear to see Karofsky hurt him – and this is after only a couple of days having known him – how would he feel if he knowingly did something that caused Kurt more pain?

"I just… give me some time to find myself again. And when I've reached that point… you'll be the first to know." Was Blaine actually acting in self-preservation for once? He must be a lot further along then he'd thought…

Kurt smiled. "That's better than I could have hoped for. So can I still do this?" He shuffled closer to Blaine, enveloping the boy in his arms.

Blaine just nodded, clasping his own hands around Kurt's shoulders.

On stage, Wes spun Santana round.

_Thirteen month old baby, broke the looking glass – _

_Seven years of bad luck, good things in your past._

_Very superstitious…_

_Very superstitious!_

They finished, their mouths not even an inch apart. Nobody could be sure who, but caught up in the moment, somehow Wes and Santana crossed that distance and their lips met.

Blaine smiled, clapping. "Wes, you sly dog…"

But Kurt jumped up. "That's Santana. I'll have to talk to him…" He shook his head. "Probably time for me to go rehearse again. You up for round two?"

Blaine stood up as well. "Not yet. I'm gonna go talk to Jeff, okay? What are you going to sing next?"

But Kurt just winked. "You'll find out…"

* * *

><p><strong>Hey guys!<strong>

**So. It's early but... MERRY CHRISTMAS!**

**I'm not like a heap of other authors on here... If I get time to write tomorrow, you'll get yourself a bit of Klaine/Neff/Wevid/Warblers Christmas. But I'm working tomorrow all day, and doing a sleepover on Christmas Eve, which is VERY EXCITING!**

**Actually... seeing how I abuse these notes so much anyway, I want to ask a favour. Because of work, my face is going to be the first thing my clients in this house see on Christmas morning. And I have 3 hours of a shift with them. And I know they're middle-aged so it probably isn't as important to them, but I REALLY want to make it special for them. So if you guys have any ideas, and I mean _any at all_, please please please let me know. Because apart from dressing up their cat as a reindeer, dressing myself up as Santa, and waking them all at 5 in the morning, I'm drawing blanks. So pretty pretty please give me a hand? Or a thought?**

**The other thing I'll say... I know how difficult the holiday season can be. I lost someone on Christmas Eve last year. And all the health-workers I know always say how hard it is. So, even though it has really no bearing at all on this chapter... If you feel lonely or upset or endangered or whatever in ANY WAY - please come and talk to me. I care about you all. I don't want anyone to go through what I've had to the past year - whether it be yourself or your family. I'll say PM me here is probably the easiest way if you're looking at (what will be Australia's) Saturday night, because I'll be on my phone and I can't access my Ask box on there, or leave messages in yours. But my Ask **(over at pi-on-a-skateboard. tumblr. com if you need a reminder)**, as always, is open, should you need it. Just know that however you're feeling, it doesn't have to be this way. I might not be able to get you out of your current situation, but I'm always here, whether you want advice or to talk or just to have someone to listen. Or, if you don't trust me, there are heaps of numbers around. GriefLine in Australia is perfect - the calls aren't traced (unlike LifeLine), so you can say whatever you need to completely anonymously - there are people who've called them after they've OD'd or... that sort of thing... just to hear a voice. No calls get made. You can get to them on (03) 9935 7400. They have online counselling as well, with about 72 hours reply. There are also heaps of numbers in various countries, I can't give you ones for every country but Google is a marvellous tool. Please. You don't have to go through it alone. There will always be someone there for you. Please pick up the phone, or jump online and talk to someone. TALKING TO PEOPLE IS NOT A WEAKNESS. It can actually be one of the best and strongest things you could ever hope to do.  
><strong>

**Thanks again to all you lovely amazing people out there who read, review, subscribe, favourite... I love you all! Shout-outs to Different Child, annkum, Brook-Lucas-Fan-23, riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795, xXLittleRoseAngelXx and xCarlax!**

**Songs used (yep. Another mash up. I'm on a roll! (Not a boat.) Hopefully I'll be able to make it for you, because, unfortunately, as much talent as I like to think I have, even I know I can't pull off Stevie Wonder or Michael Jackson. Hehehe inappropriateness). AAAAAAAAAA YOU'VE FORGOTTEN TO FINISH YOUR SENTENCE! Right. So. Songs in my mash-up are _Superstition_ and _I Wish_, by Stevie Wonder, and _Thriller_, by Michael Jackson.  
><strong>

**I hope you all (every single person reading this) have a lovely, safe and happy Christmas and New Year and Hanukkah/Kwanzaa (which I'd love to be educated in, if you're in a particularly sharing mood) and holidays and all that jazz!**

**Like it? Hate it? Want me to be mistaken for a duck, and stuffed with a chicken and then stuffed inside a turkey and roasted to a crisp in a completely different though just as edible fashion as marshmallows? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	25. Penny Lane Is In My Ears and In My Eyes

_Blaine, just stop and think about this for a second. What do _you_ want? Taking everybody else out of the equation so that nobody else gets hurt… what do you want?_

_I don't know_, was the honest answer. _To be normal. To have a nice and simple life, where everything is attainable. To, one day, maybe have a family – and not make the same mistakes as mine._

_And what about Kurt?_ Blaine watched his… friend… walk between the teenagers, Nick on clarinet and Finn on bass guitar following shortly behind.

_If I'd been out 'til quarter to three_

_Would you lock the door?_

_Will you still need me, will you still feed me_

_When I'm sixty-four?_

Of course. Blaine would never cease to be surprised or amazed by Kurt's actions.

_Yeah. I think I want that. Me and Kurt, sixty-four years old, married, maybe with some kids, singing _The Beatles.

_But why Kurt? You felt this way about Jeremiah only a week ago… And Callum a year ago… _Blaine had no idea. There was something there, though, some tiny incongruity… He just couldn't put his finger on it.

_You'll be older too_

_And if you say the word_

_I could stay with you!_

"Hey, Jeff? Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure, mate, whatever." He was gazing up at Nick, a look of pure adulation written for the world to see. "Bloody hell, how is it possible to make playing _clarinet_ sexy?"

Blaine shook his head. "Stop imagining certain other, more fun, instruments in his mouth."

"Hehehehe PENIS!" Jeff laughed, finally turning to Blaine. "You seem better."

Blaine sneezed. "I actually feel better. I think the ice helped." His throat was clearer, his blood sugar was actually bordering on normal, even his temperature had lowered slightly. "I guess Rachel Berry finally is good for something."

"I HEARD THAT, BLAINE ANDERSON," the aforementioned girl screeched across the room. She was then set upon by several Warblers and New Directioners.

"So, what did you want to ask me?" Jeff whispered, eyes flicking between Blaine and Nick.

"Listen… Um… How did you end up getting with Nick? If… I mean, you don't have to tell me…"

Jeff smiled. "Well… You know how much of my time I spent, what you might gently call, _obsessing_ over him… I spent about 3 months wondering if he were straight, all of summer break wondering if he were single… He took me to see Avenue Q a couple of weeks into term…" The boys eyes started to fog as he remembered that night.

* * *

><p>"<em>Thanks for dragging me along, Nick. I had fun."<em>

_Nick closed his eyes, breathing softly. "I… Yeah, I had fun, too…"_

_They moved closer together in the unseasonally cool wind, walking to Jeff's car. Thankfully he'd parked about 3 blocks from the theatre – not too far so that it was dangerous, but far enough to have time to chat as they strolled along._

"_So, Nick… I don't think I've ever asked… Do you have a girlfriend?"_

_The brunette burst out laughing. "You serious, Jeff?" He looked into the blonde's eyes. "Oh, God. You actually think I'm straight. You've known me how long now?"_

_Jeff blushed, looking down. "Well, I… I had hoped…" Crap! What was he rambling for?_

_But Nick was blushing as well. "Look, Jeff… There was a reason I asked _you_ to come with me tonight… And not Blaine or Trent or anyone else." He stopped suddenly, leaning against a lamp-post, eyes flickering upwards to the twilit sky._

_Jeff grabbed his hand. "You… you mean…"_

_Nick nodded, forcing himself not to look at his best friend. "It doesn't have to be a date, you know, if you don't want it to. But I wanted to give it a try…"_

_A huge beam tore its way across Jeff's face. "No. This wasn't a date."_

_Nick closed his eyes. No, he wouldn't cry. No._

_Jeff reached out, sweeping away a lone tear that rolled down his friend's face. "Nick! Let me finish first!" He moved a step closer. "It wasn't a date, because for our first date we should both know it is one. So, Nick."_

_The boy looked up, into Jeff's brown eyes, a sudden glimmer of hope appearing. "How about I take you out to dinner? Same time, next week?"_

_Nick nodded, slipping slightly down the pole. Jeff grabbed his arm, steadying him._

"_So… I can do this?" With one hand still on Nick's face, he bent down and softly pressed his lips against Nick's._

* * *

><p>"And you weren't scared?" Blaine asked.<p>

"Mate, it was terrifying. What if he decided he didn't like me? What if he wasn't ready for it? What if I screwed it up somehow? But… it felt right. So I just… knew, you know?" Jeff grinned as the strange trio made their way back over to them.

"I… I think I like Kurt…" Blaine mumbled. "No, I definitely do. But how do I know if it's right?"

Jeff thought for a second. "Well… picture yourself in ten years time. What do you see?"

_I could be handy mending a fence_

_When your lights have gone._

_You can knit a sweater by the fireside._

_Sunday mornings, go for a ride._

_Doing the garden, digging the weeds…_

_Who could ask for more?_

_Will you still need me, will you still feed me_

_When I'm sixty-four?_

Blaine closed his eyes. All he could see was Kurt's song. Blaine running around the house looking for a new pair of scrubs. Kurt sitting frantically at the dinner table making sketches. A weekend away, cuddling by the fireplace, roasting marshmallows, throwing sugar over each other at the kitchen table…

"So, I'd say you have the right person," Jeff laughed, sucking Blaine back into the vacuum of reality. "But it might not be the right time."

Blaine nodded, eyes still shut. "So, what do I do? I can't be a boyfriend yet; it's too much to ask of him…"

_Every summer we can rent a cottage_

_In the Isle of Wight, if it's not too dear._

_We shall scrimp and save._

_Grandchildren on your knee – _

_Vera, Chuck and Dave._

The boys giggled as Kurt tried – and almost succeeded – in imitating Paul's Liverpudlian accent.

"There is such a thing as taking it slow, Blaine," Jeff admonished. "I can see you're now imagining yourself and Kurt in some small seaside cottage with fifty kids around you."

"Man, you know me too well!" Blaine giggled.

"Yeah, well, after putting up with you every day for a whole year, that sort of thing tends to happen." Jeff suddenly pulled out a packet of biscuits from his bag. "Tim Tam? I can't share these with Nick."

Blaine laughed. "Better hide them. Everyone will swoop soon enough." He reached in, taking a couple of rich, chocolatey amazingness. "So… how do I go about this 'taking it slow' crap?"

_Give me your answer, fill in a form:_

_Mine for evermore._

_Will you still need me, will you still feed me_

_When I'm sixty-four?_

_Whoo!_

"Tell him that you want nothing to change. And that when you're ready to do things properly, you'll let him know. He's mad about you too, Blaine. He'll wait." Jeff was certain about this. He could see his own relationship mirroring theirs – slightly distorted, of course, but the basic principle was the same. That would be why Blaine went to talk to him, instead of Wes or David, he supposed.

"And if I screw it up before then?"

"Bloody hell. You will. Of course you will." Jeff ran a hand through Blaine's hair, messing it even further. "But he'll forgive you. Even if you are sixty-four when it finally happens."

Blaine smiled, as Kurt dropped into a chair beside him. "Thanks, Jeff." He leant over, nabbing another Tim Tam, this one for Kurt. "Now… We have to leave for Breadstix in just over half an hour... I'm going to need more candy soon. I _know_ you drove my Mustang down here; don't even bother _trying_ to deny it. Shall we take Kurt and Nick and go grab some supplies?"

Jeff jumped up as Nick made his way over, wrapping his arms around the boy. "I get to control the music!"

Blaine shook his head. "Fine. Kurt? There's a Kwik-E-Mart or something around here, right?"

Kurt grinned. "Let's go see Apu!"

* * *

><p><strong>Okay. Perhaps not as Christmassy as one might be expecting. But it's fluff nevertheless.<strong>

**Sigh. Christmas never works out for me. I tried to write something, I really did, but yeah... Life isn't great at the moment so it wouldn't come. But Klaine and Neff makes it all better! And after Christmas (because of work, remember? :P) I'll have a car scene and probably some more flashbacks and CRACK for you!**

**I'm going to repeat what I said in that last note, okay? If you EVER need to talk to someone about anything, I'm here. Don't worry about 'ruining Christmas' or anything like that for me. Because of work and recent events, the season isn't quite, well, the season. It would actually make _me_ feel a lot better if you helped yourselves out this year. And it doesn't have to be talking to me. It could be to a friend or a counselling service or family member or pet animal... Whatever. Whatever it is, you are NOT alone, and you do not have to go through it alone. I know you have the strength in there to help make things better. I believe in you.**

**Okay, enough with the sad stuff. It's Christmas!**

**Thanks to all my lovelies who read, favourite, subscribe and review! Shout-outs to riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795, flower pot girl, xCarlax, Lalice of Roses and xXLittle Rose AngelXx! I love you all, you amazing people.**

**Wishing you all a VERY merry Christmas and happy holidays. Be safe, be merry, have fun!**

**So. Like it? Hate it? Want me to be mistaken for a dollar coin and baked into a Christmas pudding? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D  
><strong>


	26. Without A Song Or A Dance What Are We?

_Keelhaul that filthy landlubber!_

_Send him down to the depths below!_

_Make that bastard walk the plank_

_With a bottle of rum_

_And a YO HO HO!_

"Um… Jeff… What the _hell_ is this?" Kurt asked nervously from the backseat of Sally – of course Blaine had named his Mustang after the song. Some strange distortion of violin, bass drum and electric guitar was blaring from Blaine's iPod dock.

"Pirate metal!" Jeff bounced happily in his seat, twisting to the left to laugh over his shoulder at Kurt and Blaine in the back. "Not everyone's cuppa tea, though." He conceded, catching sight of Kurt's face.

"I think that's strike one, Jeff," Blaine told him gently. "Next?"

Jeff nodded, hitting a button on his iPod, and the music changed swiftly – it was very loose and jazzy, almost reminiscent of Randy Newman…

_Oh, we're all crazy, we're all mad!_

_A thimbleful of sanity is all we ever had!_

_Arsenic or everclear; _

_Pick your poison fast, my dear,_

_The apocalypse is drawing near_

_And we're all gonna die!_

"Jeff… What kind of music do you _listen _to?" Kurt was half laughing, half terrified for his life.

The boys burst into laughter.

"I'll say that's strike two," Jeff announced, pressing skip again.

Kurt turned to Blaine, confusion plastered across his eyes. "What's this about strikes?"

The two boys laughed. "Look, in all fairness, I have no problem with Jeff's taste in music – he, er, introduces me to some great stuff. But we do disagree sometimes, and he's driven with me so many times, we just invented a strike system. Three strikes and the iPod gets changed." Blaine motioned for the dock as, blasting from the speakers, came:

_I've been missing my strawberry kisses!_

_Nothing's that sweet; the taste still drives me crazy…_

"I swear, shuffle exists _purely_ to embarrass us with our mates," Jeff blushed, ripping the mp3 player out and passing the cord to Kurt. "Let's hope you come up with something better. God, I can't believe I _own_ that monstrosity."

Nick lifted his hand from the gear stick, grabbing Jeff's. "We still love you just the same. Even if you play horrible pop-sounding songs that none of us have ever heard of."

Jeff grinned, planting a kiss on his boyfriend's cheek. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm _starving_! Anyone up for a Maccas run?"

"… Maccas?" Kurt was still getting used to Jeff's slang.

"McDonald's," Blaine explained, looking at his watch. "I need food. Nick, sound good?"

_Every night in my dreams,_

_I see you, I feel you,_

_That is how I – _

"NO!" Kurt hit pause. "Strike one."

The indicator clicked on and the car did a U-turn as the laughter relit itself in the four boys. Blaine punched Kurt gently on the shoulder. "And we love _you_ just the same, Kurt, even if your music has us all bleeding from the ears."

_Back in the not-too-distant past_

_When I would need a quick repast_

_Or a temporary break from my agenda…_

"Oh no. Oh, God, no. No, no, no, no!"

Nick glanced into the rearview mirror to see Blaine snatch the iPod from a rapidly-reddening Kurt. "If he's that devastated at the song… I want to hear what it is, Blaine!"

Kurt planted his face in his hands. "Please, Blaine. Please."

But the boy just shook his head. "Nah-uh-uh!" he sang teasingly, holding the player just out of arm's reach. "The iTunes fairy has spoken!"

_Internet porn – Roman orgy scenes!_

_Internet porn – dominatrix queens!_

_Internet porn – girl on girl on girl on girl on girl on guy on sheep!_

Jeff was the first to crack. "Must have been written for the Kiwis!"

"Is that even translatable to English?" Kurt asked him, shaking his now-cranberry head.

"I think I'm going to have to shoot your question back at you, Kurt," Jeff swept his fringe out his eyes, twisting back again. "What sort of music do _you_ listen to?"

Kurt was still scrambling for his iPod as the car pulled into the McDonald's Drive-Through, finally managing to reclaim it as he tickled Blaine, and the boy dropped it to his lap. "So, I like a cappella music… That one just has interesting lyrics…"

"Uh huh. Sure." Nick glanced back at them. "What are you guys getting?"

"Nuggets have the least gluten, right, Nick?" Jeff asked. "So… that'll be least likely to kill you?"

Nick nodded. "Not kill me. Just seriously maim or injure. But if you're planning on kissing me with that mouth… Go with the nuggets."

Jeff grinned. "Love you, Nick!"

Kurt was wondering a couple of things. First, what was up with Nick. And second, how Blaine could possibly be able to eat McDonalds. He turned to the driver first. "The no-gluten diet, Nick?"

The brunette grinned. "I was diagnosed with Coeliac about a month ago – that's why I was so sick, if you remember. I can't eat any gluten."

"And I don't know how likely it is, but I don't want to pass him any by… um… certain activities involving a pair of mouths," Jeff smirked. "I swear, I attract sick people. Any life-threatening illnesses I should be aware of, Kurt?"

The countertenor shook his head as he passed Nick the iPod cord. "Not yet. I've got plenty of time to develop something for you though!"

"**Hi, welcome to McDonald's, may I take your order, please?"** The boys jumped as the worker's voice interrupted them.

"Can we get… 10 nuggets in a meal, a Happy Meal with a burger and… Kurt?" Nick ordered for them.

"I can't believe you're making me do this… a cheeseburger and diet coke, please." Kurt grimaced slightly as he thought of the fat content.

"And a cheeseburger, all with diet coke, and 2 soft serve cones, please?" He finished, winking in the mirror at Blaine. "Sound good?"

"**So that's 10 nuggets…**"

Kurt turned to Blaine. "You said earlier about needing certain amounts of food at times… But how is this not going to kill you? It's all sugar and fat!"

The tenor nodded. "Yes. But, I'm not type 2 diabetic, so the fat content isn't important – it just lowers the GI because it goes screwy in the digestive system. As for the times… what time do we usually eat at school?"

"Um… around 6 or 7?" Kurt glanced down at his watch. 6:45. "Okay. And the amount?"

Blaine glanced up as he pulled out his testing and injecting kit. "There's about 30 grams of carbohydrate in the little cheeseburger, 15 with the fries and 15 with the ice cream. Approximately. That's perfectly 60, which is what I aim for at dinner every night."

Kurt nodded as they drove forwards to the cashier.

"Cough up, guys, I'm not paying for your food!" Nick told them.

Jeff fumbled in his wallet, pulling out a couple of $20's. "My shout," he announced, glaring at Kurt's loose change. "Kurt. Put that away. Now!"

"That's what he said," Blaine quipped, a smile breaking as a large **100** flashed on his glucometer. "Finally!"

Kurt cheered, grabbing Blaine in a one-armed hug. "Saved by the power of Mickey-D's?"

"Saved by the power of Mickey-D's," Blaine agreed. Kurt barely flinched as he watched the boy roll up his shirt and inject into his stomach.

The car sped off and a hot bag landed in each of the boy's laps. "Go. Eat. Ready for the magic of Nick's Nano Shuffle?"

"YES!" They all yelled, as Nick rolled the windows down.

_Hiya, Barbie!_

_Hi, Ken!_

_You wanna go for a ride?_

_Sure, Ken!_

_Jump in!_

_I'm a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world…_

Their hysterics was so loud, people on the street stopped and stared at the '67 Mustang rushing by. This time Jeff turned to Nick, fluttering a butterfly kiss onto his hand. "Really, babe? Aqua?"

Blaine sat forward, resting his elbows on Jeff's seat. "Crazy how well Kurt does this, isn't it?" They turned to watch him. He'd suddenly gone stiff and was only moving certain parts of himself at certain times, looking like a marionette – or a Barbie – doll, singing along with a huge smile on his face.

They let Nick have a go with the iPod for a while – he was driving, after all, and his music, though it should really have remained in the 90's and early 2000's, was at least recognisable by all in the car and fun to scream out at random passer-by's on the street. As they neared the Kwik-E-Mart, Blaine grabbed back the dock, plugging his own iPod in. "My turn!" He smiled gleefully.

_I like where we are_

_When we drive in your car._

_I like where we are_

_Here._

"Awwwwww," Jeff turned around, a smirk on his face. "I think your iPod is trying to tell you something…"

"Quit yo jibber-jabber!" Blaine told him. "It's a great song!"

"That it is," Jeff agreed reluctantly. "But I think I have the perfect song for us… There's a couple of lines that describe you in the back pretty well, at least."

Hellogoodbye ended and Blaine handed over the cord.

_Had a little bit to drink…_

_Well there's a little thing I wanted to do out East, yeah!_

_Well, nothing too emotional, my goodness,_

_I couldn't be serious in a room full of Jack knifes…_

"It's coming up… Just a bit more… A bit more…" Jeff was muttering.

Kurt tapped his foot. "It's interesting…"

_And we roll on to my back-shed, _

_Play some poker, scratch my head…_

"It's coming, I promise!"

"That's what he said," Blaine repeated, ducking Kurt's hand.

"Is it on the other side of the tape, Jeff?" Nick teased, remembering a particular Mighty Boosh episode.

"No… Here it is!" The Australian yelled excitedly, screaming out the relevant lyrics, and the car couldn't help but laugh appreciatively.

_All my friends are fuck-ups_

_But they're fun to have around!_

* * *

><p><strong>Hey! Merry Christmas!<strong>

**So, despite all my whinging, my Christmas wasn't as hard as I was expecting. I actually had a pretty good time, both at work and with my family! I hope you all had a wonderful time as well.**

**Songs used... Oh, dear God. In order: _Keelhauled_, by Alestorm, _We Are All Mad_ by The Circus Contraption, _Strawberry Kisses_ by Nikki Webster (a massive hit late 90's in Australia and very easily one of the worst songs ever recorded), _My Heart Will Go On_ by Celine Dion (shame on you if you needed to be told that! :P), _Internet Porn_ by Da Vinci Notebooks (an a cappella group, the song itself is hilarious and I'm fairly certain that they wrote the song themselves, but if anyone has any other knowledge, please let me know!), _Barbie Girl_ by Aqua, _Here (In Your Arms)_ by Hellogoodbye and _You Sound Like Louis Burdett_ by The Whitlams (an Aussie group, no one knows the song but it's awesome and I've taught it to a couple of friends - it's our road-trip song!).**

**Hey, look! It's a disclaimer! I own nothing (especially not after Christmas... :P) so please don't sue me! Or, well, go for your life, but you don't have a legal leg to stand on. :P**

**How were all your Christmasses? Get lots of cool pressies? **

**We actually got the best present ever. I was completely blown away... Remember how I told you a few chapters back about getting a new dog? Long story short, he died. So we called the breeder we got him from to let her know... and she gave (yes, GAVE) us a new puppy on breeder's terms - so we have to let her go back for a few months to have 2 litters, and we get to keep a puppy from each litter! We didn't ask for anything, she was just so lovely...**

**Alright, I gotta run. As usual, I have work tomorrow, and I'm talking to a mate of mine about that person who was murdered this time last year... We actually found out about it on Boxing Day (which it is today) so... yeah, he needs my attention.**

**Thanks to everyone! Shout-outs to nicolethegreat, Lalice of Roses (and OMJesus, mince pies... hope you didn't make too much a mess with them :P), flower pot girl, annkum, Different Child, xXLittle Rose AngelXx and riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795! And thanks also to everyone for your words of support - they mean so much to me! And, like I've said many times, if there's anything that I can do for you at all, even if it's just listen - please let me know!**

**Oh, I completely forgot! HUGE SHOUT-OUT HERE! I'm here to tell you about Project Not Alone. It was sent to me by PM, so I'm only relaying information here... but if you're ever in need of someone to talk to, or some nice words, or to not feel alone, please go check out projectnotalone. tumblr. com (without spaces, obviously). Or if you have friends that you think might need it, send them along. It's just yet another way of getting that message across. Because, really, you are never alone. "Help will always be given... to those who seek it."**

**Love it? Hate it? Want me to eat the entire turkey in the fridge and have weird turkey dreams and enter a completely alternate reality so I'm no longer sane enough to write? (STEPH YOU ARE ASSUMING THESE PEOPLE ARE CRAZY ENOUGH TO BELIEVE THAT YOU ARE SANE FOR THE TIME BEING...) Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D  
><strong>


	27. There's A Giant Doing Cartwheels

Thad crossed his arms and surveyed the room, trying to quickly estimate the amount of damage control required. From what he'd heard – especially from Kurt – New Directions were not exactly known for their organisation, and the Warblers could at the best of times only ever be said to run in a state of organised chaos. But that was with Wes and his compulsive pragmatism.

Well. This would be fun. Wes was not looking at all well, flushed cheeks the only colour on his face, rocking against the wall, tapping Jennifer (quite a large, rounded head with a squat handle) repeatedly against his knee as he sang, "_Bang, bang! Maxwell's silver hammer came down upon her head_!"

Andrew, Callum and Mark were surrounding Santana, flexing their muscles and showing off in any way that they could, like the dominant men they must clearly be at a private school with a reputation *cough GAY SCHOOL cough* like Dalton.

Dylan was standing by that freakishly tall footballer (Thad was pretty average height, thank you very much – that kid had to be over 6 foot!), teaching him how to beatbox. Apparently the New Directions had decided to give a cappella music a go – a smaller blonde girl was singing with a pretty Asian, their voices matching their outer beauty. He happened to catch some of the lyrics, their perfect pitch sending shivers down his spine.

_And then I open up and see_

_The person falling here is me – _

_A different way to be!_

Trent looked to be caught halfway between adding his voice to the girls' harmonies and helping Thad out. Finally he sat down on the floor in front of Thad, glancing up at his friend like a first grade student. "Thad! Chill! Just go wit' the flow, ya know?" He imitated the accent, better than Thad's himself. The Italian aimed a kick in Trent's general direction before trying to find the other members.

James, Elijah and Parker were stuffing marshmallows in their mouth – and counting them – while watching Puck and Artie from New Directions arm wrestle.

David was in a corner with a tall cheerleader – Brittany? They were supposedly practising choreography, though the blonde was giggling as she tried to escape the darker boy's arms, as he sang into her.

_Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place_

_Where as a child I'd hide_

_And pray for the thunder_

_And the rain_

_To quietly pass me by._

Trent tugged on Thad's sleeve. "How come they're allowed to act all cute and love-y in public? I swear, this whole state is so heteronormative!"

Thad just shook his head. To make matters worse, Niff and Klaine (hey, it was often easier referring to both pairs with one name, they were always found together anyway) were still nowhere to be seen. The two other council members were otherwise incapacitated, and Thad was only a sophomore, just learning the ropes… They had only 30 minutes before they had to leave for mic-check at Breadstix… This called for drastic measures.

"Trent, go round up as many of us as you can, okay?" The boy jumped up obediently, running straight towards Santana, and (not for the first time, either) Thad found himself thankful that Trent wasn't straight. But he pushed those thoughts aside as the one person in the room who could possibly have any effect on the choristers – Vincent Pedy – stood up from the corner, stepped over Wes, and sauntered over to him.

"Thadeus, my dear man, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" The teacher clapped him on the shoulder, gaps shining through his toothy grin.

"I do hope not, Mr Pedy; your head is quite the terrifying place." Thad did have an inkling, though – the eccentric, surprisingly, was quite predictable. "What did you have in mind?"

"Shall we educate these swine?" The teacher's smile widened while simultaneously becoming more shadow, more hidden. "Showing them just how many Worlds Apart we are ought to do the trick!"

"I like the way you think, sir." Best to play it safe, nice and polite with this man.

The teacher nodded and began to hum, walking in slow circles from Thad in the centre of the room, radiating outwards, his voice calling sense wherever possible to those possible, awakening something deep in their minds.

_Here we stand,_

_Worlds apart, broken in two, two, two…_

_Sleepless nights,_

_Losing ground, I'm reaching for you, you, you…_

Thad walked in the opposite direction, stopping first by David and Brittany. David's eyes glazed over (it didn't matter what you said, there was some unexplainable voodoo aura surrounding Mr Pedy, like he could hypnotise with his voice alone) and Thad dropped to backing vocals as David sang lead. They continued outwards.

_Feeling that it's gone_

_Can change your mind._

_If we can't go on_

_To survive the tide, love divides…_

The door creaked open, though it went unnoticed by all in the room. There was a slight chill that ran its course through the youths, reaching right to the core of every Warbler present in the room, so that they found themselves singing – while the New Directions listened, many of them grimacing.

_Someday, love will find you._

_Break those chains that bind you!_

_One night will remind you_

_How we touched and went our separate ways!_

It was too bad, really, that this was a letting-go song. Maybe it was the atmosphere, maybe it was Mr Pedy's voice working its magic (and Thad meant that in the most literal way possible)… But he was tingling with perfect harmonisation and balance. He'd have to talk to Wes in the next few days – this would be a great song to hold on retainer for future performances.

_If he ever hurts you,_

_True love won't desert you._

_You know I still love you,_

_Though we touched and went our separate ways!_

Jeff and Nick entered the choir room first, hands loosely clasped together. Their eyes too immediately glazed over and they marched forward to join the hollow formation of Warblers. Kurt and Blaine followed quickly behind, though they both seemed immune to Vincent's power.

In fact, Kurt groaned. "Seriously, guys? Journey?"

The magic was broken. They all immediately stopped singing, shaking themselves off.

"And what, exactly, is wrong with Journey, might I ask, Kurt?" Vincent loomed threateningly over the boy, a crooked smile like a clown playing on his lips.

"I think we've finally found that mystical Journey song New Directions haven't yet performed," Kurt sighed. "Congratulations. Mr Schuester would be proud!"

"Schuester? Will Schuester?" The teacher looked momentarily taken aback before reassembling his face again to resemble a clown's. "Ah, dear William! He has taught you well!"

Blaine, meanwhile, hurried over to Wes, a sharp stab of guilt slicing through his gut. Jeff and David, who both seemed to have torn themselves from their sleepwalking state, followed close behind. "I'm sorry, Wes," Blaine told him, popping a couple of recently-bought pills. "Why didn't you tell us you're sick? Let's get that fever down and you'll feel better…"

Jeff slowly wrenched Jennifer from his grasp while David pulled out a bottle of water. "It's not your fault, Blaine," Wes uttered, half-aware of his surroundings. "You didn't know I was a cow. Hell, I didn't know I was a cow. I thought I'd be immune… Hehehe. That's what cows say. 'Moooooo'."

Jeff laughed. "He thinks he has Mad Cow disease…?"

Thad looked around once more. Apart from the small group caring for Wes (and that was nice, he had to admit – the boarders all really seemed like brothers. Was he jealous?), his choir were standing in perfect formation around him, and the New Directions were looking up at him expectantly. So he clapped his hands. "Half an hour until showtime! We'll run through our ending… as much of it as possible, anyway… and then we shall head off into the sunset!"

* * *

><p><strong>So, yes. Final filler chapter. I think. I like Thad, I've decided.<strong>

**So I've been out in the sun all day running on next to no sleep and my BSL is low so I'm not even going to pretend that I'm coherent. But it's a filler chapter. So yes.**

**OMJesus. You know who I met today? Falling. Through. Wonderland. Sooooooo much fun. She's just as awesome in person as she is online :D Go read her work. 'Tis lovely.**

**Um... Songs. _Dreams_ by The Cranberries, _Sweet Child O Mine_, originally by Guns N Roses, but you can imagine a slower, sweeter, higher version for yourself. And _Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)_ by Journey - which actually is a great song. And I don't think it's been covered yet...**

**Shout outs to Brook-Lucas-Fan-23, annkum, xXLittle Rose AngelXx, riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795, Lalice of Roses and xCarlax! Thanks to everyone for reading, reviewing, subscribing, etc.**

**Like it? Hate it? Want my fingers to be turned to gold in a freak smelting accident? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D  
><strong>


	28. The Gap Between the Two Trapezes

"Blaine, are you sure you're up for this?"

Blaine turned away from Kurt, eyes watering into the light as he sneezed and blew his nose. "There are many things you can take away from me," he advised the boy, turning back, "but singing Paul McCartney in front of a large crowd is not one of them. The ice will wear off soon, just let me do this and then I'll sit up the back the rest of the night and watch, if you really want."

The boys were standing in a loose basic formation – even Wes, whose fever had finally started to come down, though he was still very out-of-it – waiting to decide who would sing the first solo of the night.

Nick raised a hand from the back. "Kurt, just give it to Blaine. It'll save us all a lot of time and energy."

"And if his voice dies during the performance?"

"Kurt, it's back in the original key." Blaine told him. "You know what my range is like normally. This isn't anywhere near my normal breaking points."

"And I'll jump in at any moment," Nick reassured them.

"Fine." Kurt nodded, not happy. "Do NOT push yourself, Blaine – I do NOT want to wheel you out of here on a stretcher. Wes, are you okay?"

The leader nodded, eyes closed. "Let's go rock this joint!" He forced out.

"Anyone else going to die on us?" There were a few snorts, but the choir remained motionless. "Alright, everybody! Break a leg!"

And then Kurt was introducing and Blaine was singing beautifully and Wes stayed with Santana as much as he could and they flirted with their audience and nobody fainted and the night was off to a brilliant start.

_Silly Love Songs_ ended, and David and Quinn stepped forwards. Wes and Blaine dropped out of formation, taking a much-needed seat close to the stage, while several cheerleaders stepped up in their place.

_Where have all the good men gone and where are all the gods?_

_Where's the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds?_

_Isn't there a bright knight upon a fiery steed?_

_Late at night, I toss and I turn_

_And I dream of what I need…_

Blaine smiled as Quinn began to sing. He remembered Kurt praising her voice often – apparently she was New Direction's only true alto, often carrying parts by herself, and she definitely had the talent to do so, though maybe not the confidence. But her acting was incredible – was that an actual tear rolling down her cheek?

"This brings back memories, doesn't it?" Wes whispered to the side, resting his head on the table as he looked around for Santana.

"New Years Eve, last year?" Blaine smothered a chuckle as he remembered the events. "How much alcohol was there, exactly?"

"I was so taken aback when David suggested singing this with a girl from McKinley. I mean, honestly, most of us had completely locked those images away… He mustn't remember it. I don't think he could live with himself if he did."

"Hey, if anyone can rock a pink dress while singing Bonnie Tyler, it's David." They both laughed –which both, unfortunately, turned into fits of coughing. Blaine held up a hand at several concerned Warblers as they looked towards the boys.

_I need a hero!_

_I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night._

_He's gotta be strong_

_And he's gotta be fast_

_And he's gotta be fresh from the fight!_

"Wes. Stop dying," Blaine choked out brokenly, face bright red.

"I might tell you the same thing," Wes chastised him, eyes streaming. "I'll get you some water."

"No, Wes. You can't move your head. I'll go."

"Yes, but Blaine, unlike you, standing isn't going to kill me."

Then Artie, taking pity on the boys though cackling his head off, rolled over to their table, a pitcher of water on his lap. "Boys, boys, boys. Look at yourselves. Just… let someone else take care of you both for once. Honestly."

Their eyes met and they began laughing again. "Artie! You're our hero!"

_I need a hero!_

_I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light._

_He's gotta be sure_

_And it's gotta be soon_

_And he's gotta be larger than life…_

David dropped the macho-man act, clapped and stood tall, arms outstretched and waiting. Quinn, despite the height-difference and her freakishly tall heels, quickly matched him, swinging her flared skirt proudly.

"So. You like Santana?" Artie tried to follow Wes' line of vision, grinning slightly.

"I… Maybe. She's a good kisser." Wes blushed. "I only met her today!"

"Good looking, too." The two turned to stare at Blaine. "What? Can't a gay guy appreciate some fine feminine beauty?"

"I'd shake my head at you, Blaine," Wes laughed, running a hand through his hair, "but I'm not entirely sure I can lift it from the table right now."

Artie smiled sympathetically. "We've all been sick here in Lima, too. Can I get you anything?"

"I… Thanks." Wes closed his eyes. "But I don't know how much I'd be able to keep down."

"Do you need a bucket?" Blaine asked, alarmed. He'd assumed Wes had whatever he did, but the nausea was something new. "Or do you want to go outside?"

"No. Don't worry. I'm okay." Wes tried to reassure them. "I just… don't want to eat right now."

_Somewhere after midnight in my wildest fantasy,_

_Somewhere just beyond my reach there's someone reaching back for me._

_Racing on the thunder, or rising with the heat,_

_It's gonna take a superman to sweep me off my feet!_

The pairs of dancers split up, females pirouetting frantically as their partners marched between the tables – still singing their respective harmonies. It was a risky move – their balance could easily be lost – but David and Quinn simply stepped up their melody. Wes shivered – apart from the whole getting sick thing, this was working out better than he could ever have imagined.

Kurt and Santana danced their way over to the trio, the girl mouthing a quick "wanky" as she kept twirling.

Wes squeezed his eyes shut tighter. "Is the whole room spinning, or just them?"

"You dizzy, Wes?" Artie turned to find the strange teacher from before. "Water should help, yeah? Or coffee? Or chocolate? That's what my girlfriend asks for when she gets like this…"

Blaine watched the colour continue to drain itself from his friend's face. He didn't think he'd ever seen him looking this sick before – not that awful day in September, not that time he'd been rushed by ambulance to get his appendix out, not when he'd spent almost 60 hours straight awake waiting with Blaine for news on Maegan's latest trip to hospital… "Wes, when was the last time you ate?"

"I had lunch with you guys, remember?" Wes turned his head to look briefly at Blaine in concern.

"You picked at a salad, Wes. If you were a girl we'd tell you that's eating disorder material. What about breakfast?"

Wes frowned, trying to think back, but the whole day really was a huge blur. He must be a lot sicker than he'd originally thought…

_I need a hero!_

_I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night._

_He's gotta be strong_

_And he's gotta be fast_

_And he's gotta be fresh from the fight!_

The pairs returned to the stage. Kurt narrowed his eyes at the table, watching Artie and Blaine bend near to Wes' head, talking quietly. This couldn't be good.

"You're dizzy, nauseous, I know you're a lot more tired than you're letting on and I'm betting your head hurts. How clear _is_ your head? How do you spell banana?" Blaine had a nasty feeling about what was going on with Wes.

"B-A-N-A-N-A-N-A-N-A-N-N-A-N-A," Wes told him, before halting. "Or… No, that isn't right."

Blaine sighed. Of course. He always attracted them. "Wes… Can I test your blood sugar?"

"Can't hurt," Wes admitted. "Does it always feel like this?"

Artie watched them, confusion splattered over his face. "Uh… Do we need a doctor?"

"How does it feel, Wes?" Blaine pulled out his black kit, changing over the lancet quickly. "For me, it changes all the time. Though sometimes I just know I'm not right without actually feeling anything. Other times my tongue goes numb and I start seeing spots before I know something's up."

"It's like there's this big brick wall in my head," Wes tried to explain, flinching as he felt the lancet jab his finger. "And whenever I try to think is like I'm trying to climb the wall. And I get close to the top but it keeps getting bigger and growing and it starts closing over me. It's like claustrophobia inside my own head."

_I need a hero!_

_I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light._

_He's gotta be sure_

_And it's gotta be soon_

_And he's gotta be larger than life!_

_Larger than life…_

"Artie… Can you go grab us a coke? Please? Quickly?" Blaine held up his machine to Wes, displaying a **68**, as Artie hurried off. "Well done, Wes. Your first low blood sugar."

"Is that… normal? That shouldn't happen, should it?" Wes frowned, shifting his position so his head was closer to his knees. "I really don't feel well, Blaine."

"It's not normal, but not unheard of." Blaine reassured him, hand hovering over the boy's exposed neck. "You're sick, you're overworked, you're stressed and you haven't had proper carbs since God-knows-when."

Wes tried to focus on Blaine's voice. "I'm not diabetic."

"No, but blood sugar is just another mechanism to be regulated," Blaine stated mater-of-factly, finally bringing his hand down to rub Wes' back. "When you screw with everything else, it's a lot easier for it to get out-of-whack."

"I know you're talking to me, Blaine, but the words aren't going in or making sense or anything." Wes sounded scared. "How do you live with this?"

"I'm used to it now." Blaine squeezed his shoulder with his free hand. "Listen to the music instead."

_Up where the mountains meet the heavens above,_

_Out where the lightning splits the sea,_

_I could swear that there's someone, somewhere, watching me!_

_Through the wind and the chill and the rain_

_And the storm and the flood,_

_I can feel his approach_

_Like a fire in my blood!_

The backing vocals dropped and the boys started hitting whatever they could – empty tables, glasses, their chests. The girls splayed outwards, flirting with various audience members as they added their own voices to the mix.

Artie thrust himself through the crowd, a glass of coke squeezed between his legs. Blaine grabbed it and thrust the straw in front of Wes' mouth, cradling his head. "Either you're going to drink this in a flash and not want to stop because you're terrified of collapsing, or you're not going to want any because you feel that sick. Either way, Wes, I'm sorry, but this is the fastest way of making you better."

Wes shuddered. "The latter, Blaine. Please, don't make me do this."

"You need sugar, Wes."

But the boy pursed his lips, doing the impossible and growing paler still.

_I need a hero!_

_I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night._

_He's gotta be strong_

_And he's gotta be fast_

_And he's gotta be fresh from the fight!_

"Have a couple of sips, Wes, and then we can take you outside, okay? I promise." Blaine felt so bad for all the times he'd forced the others to do the same for him.

"Fine," Wes finally submitted. "But if I hurl on your shoes, I take no responsibility."

"Deal." Blaine pushed the straw into Wes' mouth, breathing a small sigh of relief as the older boy began to drink.

_I need a hero!_

_I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light._

_And he's gotta be sure_

_And it's gotta be soon_

_And he's gotta be larger than life…_

_I need a hero!_

"Are you going to be okay?" Artie asked, worried. "I just… I'm up next and if we don't want attention…"

"Go." Wes told him. "I've done enough, I'm not ruining the night for everyone."

"Feel better soon, bro." Artie strolled to the microphone as the choir scattered.

Kurt, David and Jeff hurried straight to Wes as soon as they'd finished singing. "What's going on?" David dropped to the floor, gazing into Wes' eyes. "You look like shit, man."

"I wouldn't sit there if I were you, David." Wes warned him, feeling his heart begin to race.

"Holy crap! No witty come-back? You must be dying!" David went to punch him on the shoulder but seemed to change mind halfway through, twirling girlishly instead.

Blaine gave them a small smile, hand still running up and down Wes' back. "His blood sugar is 68. Give him a couple of minutes."

"I'd say the same to you, David, but that's more of a compliment, really." The corner of Wes' mouth perked up.

"What's wrong, baby, you not feeling well?" The boys glanced up as a pair of heels clacked over to them. "Let auntie Santana help." The girl pulled up a chair, running her fingers lightly through the nape of Wes' neck.

Wes ran his eyes up the purple heels, stopping mid-calf on the girl. He could feel his heart speeding faster, but those fingers – her fingers – felt amazing. He almost felt comforted by her touch alone.

"Wes? How are you doing? Ready for some more coke?"

He took a few more sips, then groaned. "Everything's still spinning, Blaine," he accused.

"Give it a bit longer, Wes," Blaine chided him. "Still wanna throw up?"

Wes thought for a moment. "No."

Santana pulled the boy's head onto her lap, still playing with his hair. "If you get me sick, Jackie Chan, your name is off my booty-call list before you can say freshly fried fresh flesh. What is your name, by the way?"

"Wes Montgomery." The boy sat up to look her in the eyes before the weight of his head grew too much and he collapsed back onto her lap.

"Well, Wes Montgomery. How'd you like to take me to Breadstix next weekend?" Santana smiled at the boys around her, most of whom were watching in absolute shock. "You play your cards right, you just might get yourself off that booty-call list and onto my abuse-mercilessly-for-social-status list."

"Too much information, Santana," Wes whispered, unsure if he was awake or actually dreaming. He didn't really care if he was just booty-call, he didn't want to give this girl up.

"Wes! Can you spell antidisestablishmentarianism for me?" Blaine poked his side gently, smiling at the tiny return of colour to his friend's face.

"Go to hell, Blaine," Wes murmered sleepily. "I can't do that normally."

"Fine. Give banana another try for me."

"B-A-N-A-N-A-S," Wes rapped like Gwen Stefani. "Thank you, Blaine, for saving my life. Can you leave me in peace with this gorgeous woman now, please?"

The boys grinned and moved to the next table to watch Artie and Nick.

Wes closed his eyes, snuggling into Santana's stomach. Whether he moved into a relationship with her, or whether he just had a ridiculously hot pillow for the night didn't matter – he was comfortable. And within 5 minutes he'd drifted off to sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>Hey, all you amazing people. HAPPY NEW YEAR! (Yeah, I'm a few days late, give me a break. Work and ACTUAL TIME WITH FRIENDS and the such got in the way...) I hope you had a wonderful and safe time, and I hope your year is absolutely amazing.<strong>

**What did you all get up to? After a seriously hectic shift (that resulted in an ambulance being called for my vomiting diabetic client and 1.5 hr overtime) I had dinner (Nando's :P) with my friends and we watched the 2130 and 0000 fireworks. I'm in Melbourne, and if you haven't heard about it (which I'm guessing none of you have because it actually wasn't a huge deal down here) the Arts Centre Spiral - which is the main focus of the fireworks - caught on fire and they had to send 7 firetrucks and stuff. Which I saw while the fireworks were still going. But apparently it was mainly cosmetic damage and should be fixed soon.**

**So. Questions? Yes. Non-diabetics can get low blood sugar. They all swarm towards me. You've no idea how many I've treated :P. And the banana thing? When I was about 10 (so I'd been diagnosed** **nearly 2 years) I went low in class without realising it and I was writing banana and it came out somewhat like Wes spelled it - and I had no idea what I was doing wrong, I just knew it looked wrong... My bad :P**

**Thanks again to my lovely readers/reviewers/subscribers/favouriters. I really really appreciate everything! You should all come say hi to me! So I can thank you all personally. But until I can do that... Shout-outs to purbles33, riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795, Brook-Lucas-Fan-23, Stranger on the Bus/Lalice of Roses (I'm not sure what to call you...) and xXLittle Rose AngelXx! Ooooh and I'm at 145 reviews... so close to 150! Which is just amazing. Thank you all!**

**Hehe. I've just realised that my longer chapters seem to have longer ANs. Must be some sort of proportion law. I'll have to go determine the r value...**

**Ugh. See what the heat does to me? I haven't studied maths in a year now! ... Le sigh.**

**Oh! I'm totes going to see my Dad in the US. I'll be gone around Jan 18 til about Feb 6 or so... Booking flights tomorrow. So during that period I shall update when I can, but it might not be very often. I should get a little bit of writing done though, so I can update at the very least when I get home!**

**Hehehe. And I has hipster glasses. They are totally awesome! And I'm getting my hair cut into a bob of some description and I feel very indie. Which is amusing because people who reject mainstream just because it's mainstream tend to piss me off a little. But anyhoo...  
><strong>

**Okay. Gotta be up in 5 hours for work. :D**

**Like it? Hate it? Want me to keep pressing A so I'm left forever talking to the nurse at the Pokemon Health Centre? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	29. I'd Rather Be A Comma Than A Full Stop

Blaine glanced around the room at his huge, happy, sometimes incestuous, highly dysfunctional family. Somehow, despite all the crazies, the illnesses, the massively screwing everything up – it must be a full moon – everything seemed to be turning out for the better. He'd been forgiven – God knows why – for all that he'd done. And, what was even more impressive, Kurt was learning – and learning quickly. He'd adapted instantly to Blaine's lifestyle. Sure, he needed a lot more exposure to gain that confidence, but Blaine's disease hadn't turned him away at all. And Blaine couldn't be more grateful.

_I was so high I did not recognise_

_The fire burning in her eyes,_

_The chaos that controlled my mind._

_Whispered goodbye as she got on the plane_

_Never to return again,_

_But always in my heart._

Blaine grinned, watching Nick and Artie grooving on stage. Sure, he was ever-so-slightly disappointed he'd had to give up that solo – like Kurt had said so many times, he could actually hear himself blending with Artie. Their voices would match pretty neatly, too. Though Nick was doing an incredible job, improvising on a djembe – and Blaine didn't want to know where that had come from or how Nick had become so accomplished on it – while Artie strummed, huge grins lighting up the room. Tina was sitting behind them at the piano, her fingers dancing across the keys, bopping her head, and she gave Blaine a warm smile before turning back to the grand.

The diner was actually pretty cool. Many of the people there were friends of the various students – so they had cleared a space in front of the stage. A mini mosh-pit had formed as a dancing area, thrumming with kids of all shapes and sizes, its own organism, each syncopated beat like a breath. He caught a glimpse of Jeff pulling Thad by the hands, forcing him to twirl around while his eyes remained locked on his boyfriend up on stage. David was laughing with some cheerleaders, Wes was passed out against Santana, and Blaine found his own head resting on Kurt's shoulder.

Kurt was amazing. He really was. Blaine was not in any way used to being cared for. Like he mattered. Like he was important, like he meant something to someone. He was barely used to feeling human.

His parents hadn't helped at all. Sure, they hadn't exactly locked him in a cupboard under the stairs for more than a week at a time, but they hadn't exactly been the most gracious and nurturing people in the world – not with his mother too afraid to change, and his father too strong and powerful – especially when off his face on whatever substance he could get his hands on at the time – usually cheap whiskey.

No. Tonight was meant to be happy. It was Valentine's Day. Blaine was here with his real family. His old one wasn't important.

_This love has taken its toll on me._

_She said goodbye too many times before_

_And her heart is breaking in front of me_

_But I have no choice_

'_Cos I won't say goodbye anymore._

Funny. Funny the huge effects such a small action can have. Like the proverbial butterfly and the economy of Greece. Funny that it had taken a near coma and very nearly ruining his relationship with Kurt for Blaine to start opening up. Funny that opening himself up had, at least for the moment, led to him feeling the happiest that he could remember – and this is with an almost definite trip to the hospital in the next few days, the way his body was feeling.

"Thank you, Kurt," Blaine murmured, burrowing in the boy's neck.

Kurt looked down in surprise. "For what?"

"For not running away."

_I tried my best to feed her appetite,_

_Keep her coming every night._

_So hard to keep her satisfied._

_Kept playing love like it was just a game,_

_Pretending to feel the same,_

_Then turn around and leave again._

_Oh!_

Blaine inhaled deeply. Yes, smelling – or, at the very least, attempting to smell – your best friend was rather creepy, but Blaine wanted to remember this moment forever. How safe he felt in Kurt's arms, how he could drop all his guards.

"I told you earlier, you'll have to try harder than having some life-threatening illness and a seriously messed-up family to scare away a Hummel."

See. How could he be so lucky? To find someone like that as a friend. A guy. A guy who happened to be gay. A guy who happened to be gay who also happened to show some interest back.

"Blaine, you're so hot!"

Even though he knew the context, Blaine couldn't help but grin. "It is me we're speaking about, Kurt. I mean, have you even seen my ass recently?"

"Just because you're feverish does not mean I won't slap you, Blaine." Kurt's arms around him tightened as he bent forward, coughing again into his fist.

"Who's to say I won't enjoy that?"

"Is that your blood sugar, or just the fever talking?" Kurt removed his arms, putting one hand on Blaine's forehead while pouring a fresh glass of cold water with the other.

That was surprising. Blaine knew that Kurt was getting the hang of the whole diabetes thing really quickly – but for his first instinct at an unusual comment to be his blood sugar… That was pretty impressive. Blaine probably wouldn't have thought of that himself.

"I think it's just tiredness, but I'm due to test any minute now." Blaine cleared his throat, pulling out his kit for what felt like the thousandth time that day. "Do you want to do the honours?"

Kurt grimaced but nodded, playing idly with Blaine's left hand. "Which finger?"

_This love has taken its toll on me._

_She said goodbye too many times before_

_And her heart is breaking in front of me_

_And I have no choice_

'_Cos I won't say goodbye anymore._

"You know, my sister used to love testing me," Blaine said, sucking his finger clean as he continued to watch the boys – Brittany and Quinn had jumped on stage, shimmying around Artie and Nick as they performed.

"Who, Maegan?" Kurt gave Blaine's hand one last squeeze. "You're 69, Blaine. Does that mean you need sugar? Because it's less than 75?"

"69." Blaine giggled rather immaturely. "Yeah, I've been dropping throughout the night so I probably should."

Kurt fished out a packet of gummi cola bottles, ripping it open, before swatting the back of Blaine's head gently. "Idiot."

"Bitch."

"Jerk." Apparently Kurt liked watching Supernatural as well.

_I'll fix these broken things,_

_Repair your broken wings_

_And make sure everything's alright._

_My pressure on your hips,_

_Sinking my fingertips_

_Into every inch of you_

_Cos I know that's what you want me to do!_

"Congratulations, by the way. You just caught your first low blood sugar level – without me even having to st-stutter once!" Damn it.

Kurt chose to ignore the slip. "You were talking about Maegan…?"

"She's the only one of my family missing tonight…" Blaine said wistfully. "I miss them both like you can't imagine. "

"Being sick doesn't help either, does it?" Kurt understood. He just got it, somehow. "My Mom… I miss her everyday. But especially when I'm sick. I mean, my Dad's fantastic and all, but just… it's not the same."

Blaine blinked. He'd been so wrapped up in his own little world. He tried, he really did, but it was so easy to forget that everyone else had their own problems too. It was like Kurt said earlier – that everyone is broken, that everything is made to be broken. Maybe it was time to let someone else take over. He didn't have to do this completely alone. Wes and David would be there to help, as well as Jeff and Nick and all the Warblers, even if they knew next to nothing about him.

_This love has taken its toll on me._

_I said goodbye too many times before._

_And my heart is breaking in front of me._

_She said goodbye too many times before!_

_And she will be loved,_

_And she will be loved…_

Why did all of his revelations always seem to happen around music?

Blaine clapped as Tina moved forward to the mic with Quinn, while the boys backed off. He let himself be surrounded by the sounds of an almost-female a cappella group (some of the Warblers had been unable to resist and jumped in earlier at rehearsal) while leaning against Kurt. Yes, like he thought earlier – despite everything, he would get to that point, perhaps earlier than originally thought. Now that he knew what it was like to feel happy again, he wasn't about to give it up.

* * *

><p><strong>Hey guys. Seriously rushed this morning because I'm running for a train. Like leaving the house in 5 minutes. It hasn't been proofread, I know it changes suddenly and I'm not too happy with the ending but I need some sort of segue for the next chapter, so...<strong>

**Chucking disclaimers to remind you I own naught but a shiny box full of golden treasures, which unfortunately do not contain the rights to Glee.**

**Thanks to everyone, especially some awesome anon, annkum, Different Child, riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795, xXLittle Rose AngelXx and Stranger on the Bus. Big shout out to triedtolie, who kind of gave me a prompt and it hasn't been covered yet, it's coming I promise, but it's still slightly relevant to today's chapter.**

**Love it? Hate it? Want me to forget about the mentos in my mouth and drink a heap of diet coke and have a mini explosion in my mouth thus disorientating me for a few days so I can't write? Please let me know.**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	30. The Flame That Burns The Candle

_All my life_

_Is changing every day_

_In every possible way._

_In all my dreams_

_It's never quite as it seems,_

_Never quite as it seems._

Blaine's eyes fluttered shut as he sank back into Kurt's chest, Tina's voice floating through his mind like the dandelion seeds from a child's wish, her serenity blocking out all other thoughts.

"Come on, Blaine," Kurt whispered, his chin resting gently on Blaine's fiery head. "I know you're not dangerously low, but I don't think you should sleep yet."

"Eshoo! Eh… Eshoo! Eshoo!"

"Bless y – "

"Eshoo! Eshoo!"

"Bless – "

"Eh… ESHOO!"

"You finished yet?" Kurt sounded amused.

Blaine nodded weakly, head spinning. "Sorry, Kurt. I'mb awake ndow."

"Well. Bless you, then."

_I know I've felt like this before,_

_And now I'm feeling it even more_

_Because it came from you._

"How _are_ you feeling, Blaine?" Kurt fished through his pockets for a travel pack of tissues.

"I kndow I dond't sound it, but actually, pretty happy." Blaine groaned as he blew his nose, sending a fresh wave of vertigo straight to his head like a shot of Absinthe.

"That's great!" Kurt gave a small smile. "But I meant, physically, how are you?"

"Everything hurts," Blaine mumbled, sinking lower. "I mean, my hair hurts. It feels like I'm swallowing acid, my teeth want to sneeze and my brain at some stage has thrown itself out my head and been replaced with cotton balls."

Kurt whistled. "And you're happy?"

"I'm with you."

_And then I open up and see_

_The person falling here is me._

_A different way to be._

Blaine squinted at the floor, watching all the happy couples. They all seemed to be doing the exact same thing – staring into each other's eyes, arms wrapped tightly around the other, gently rocking. Didn't matter what colour, height, anything. It was perfect choreography, whether they knew it or not.

Jeff and Nick were to the side, partially hidden from view, foreheads touching. Blaine smiled. He couldn't be more proud of the two – Jeff he'd always known to be gay, but he was one of the first that Nick, tiny frightfully shy Nick, had come out to. The pair had always been great friends, but Blaine had watched them both grow so much, finding their feet, gaining their own confidence in each other as much as themselves. And now they were in public – in Lima, of all places – kissing to a cover of The Cranberries.

Kurt followed Blaine's line of sight, his own face breaking into a grin as he watched the pair. "Good for them."

Blaine shifted slightly. "That could be us…"

Kurt moved his head around to the side, so that he could look into the depths of those hazel eyes. "Blaine Everett Anderson. Would you like to dance?"

"I'd love to, Kurt Ellis Hummel." They stood up, but Blaine stumbled, swaying, feeling a rush of heat to his face as his body tried to correct the drop in blood pressure. "You'll have to help me."

"I'm right here." Kurt slowly shuffled over, near to Jeff and Nick. "Close your eyes. Lean into me. I've got you."

"And if I fall?" Blaine murmured into his neck.

"I'll catch you."

_I want more._

_Impossible to ignore,_

_Impossible to ignore._

_They'll come true._

_Impossible not to do,_

_Impossible not to do._

Blaine's feet floated along the ground, barely grazing the surface, consciousness higher than the clouds. He pressed an ear against Kurt's chest, his eyes still closed, feeling each tiny breath press against his cheek, hearing his heart thrum, getting faster. He wrapped his arms around Kurt's back, hands meeting at his neck, fingers running gently through his fine hair, pulling him closer just to convince himself that this was still real. He gazed upwards, trailing his eyes over Kurt's chiselled jawline, the tiny fuzzy hints of stubble sporadically placed…. those luscious red lips, those honest blue eyes. Blaine's own heart began to speed – could he do it? Could he actually do it? Kurt sure looked like he wanted it, if that hungry expression was anything to go by.

Kurt's head bent down, lower, only a few inches from Blaine's open mouth.

_Now I tell you openly,_

_You have my heart so don't hurt me._

_You're what I couldn't find._

_Totally amazing mind,_

_So understanding and so kind._

_You're everything to me._

Blaine tilted his head back slightly. Their lips brushed. Oh, holy crap. Sure, in the movies and books they're always going on about fireworks… This wasn't fireworks. This was other-worldly. The instant their lips had met, they had been transported to some far off place where it was just them and some sand and water. No air. Who needed air? What would be the use of air when your heart has suddenly stopped beating because all your hopes and dreams were suddenly coming true?

Blaine pulled back slowly, opening his eyes, his grin matched only by Kurt's. "That… that was pretty amazing, hey?"

Kurt shook his head, like he was trying to clear water from his ears. "You've no idea how often I've dreamt of this moment."

"Me too," Blaine breathed, then moved again, pressing harder this time, more desperate, trying to use all the time he had remaining. Of all the said dreams that he'd had, something always had to go wrong right at that critical moment.

_All my life_

_Is changing every day_

_In every possible way._

Blaine thrust his head back rapidly, turning to the side.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asked as he brought two hands to cup his mouth. "Oh."

"Sorry, Kurt," Blaine choked out, mid-sneezing-fit. "I'm not feeling too great anyway," he added as his stomach churned. "And something always happens to screw that second kiss up."

"What do you mean?" Kurt handed him another tissue, steering the boy to a chair as he felt his legs begin to tremble.

_And all my dreams_

_Are never quite as it seems,_

_Cos you're a dream to me,_

_A dream to me._

Blaine sighed. "That first kiss is always wonderful. But… in my head… that second one always gets screwed up. Like the power will go out, or the roof will cave in, or someone will walk in on us… "

"Or something like this?" A foul stench filled the air, like rotting fruit and acetone and stale whiskey. Blaine looked up from his hands into what had previously been Kurt, seeing his face begin to decay and melt inwards, sunken eyes burning a deep red, scars smattered over the face like shotgun pellets. His father.

* * *

><p>The dream snapped Blaine's eyes open as the bile rose in his throat and he ran through the crowd out into the cold empty street, the image of his nightmare burnt in the deep recesses of his mind.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>I'm sorry. Please don't hate me. I said before... I miss Klaine fluff. So I thought I'd write something sweet enough to bring Blaine's sugar level back to normal. But I'm trying to keep as close to canon as possible... Hence that. Although who knows where this is going to end up, really. :P (Says the girl who basically has her epilogue written...)<strong>

**Remember me telling you about my NYE, how I worked overtime because my client was really sick, calling ambulance and all that jazz? She came home today. It was seriously one of the most heart-warming experiences I've had - I'm still all fuzzy inside. I made her lunch and a proper coffee, and we were feeding her fish. She was thanking me for everything that we'd done for her (she gets sick a lot, especially around me, but I think because I don't freak out over it she finds it easier round me... And we've bonded over blood sugar levels :P). She stuck a hand out so I grabbed it, and she said that while she was away she really missed me and that she loved me. And she held her arms out (which is really difficult for her to do) and I hugged her and she hugged me back. Just... this is why I do my job. To connect to people. She is one of the sweetest people I've ever met, disability or no disability, and honestly, I do love her. That whole house is just lovely. And apparently they love me too. I've no idea why, I keep threatening to eat their toasted sandwiches...**

**Anyhoo... That's my amazing day.**

**Thanks again to everyone for reading and favouriting and reviewing. I've surpassed 150, which is bizarre, because when I started I honestly thought I'd get maybe 3. Then again, I didn't think I'd get past maybe 5 chapters (I have a lot of difficulty seeing things through to completion). But here we are. Somewhat near an end. Though I have another story planned, based off this universe - no title yet, but I'll be sure to publish it before this ends so that you can find it, if you're interested at all. There's something else I'm planning, too, but I'll let you know when I've actually written something. Too many ideas :P**

**Shout-outs to: xXLittle Rose AngelXx, Different Child, triedtolie, flower pot girl, jensenfan4ever and annkum! You guys all found and reviewed this within I think about 12 hours... Which is nuts... Love you all!**

**I do not own the rights to anything. Except free speech and information and stuff, cos I'm a classy Aussie like that :P**

**_Edit: I had a few people confused about whether his Dad actually showed up... Hopefully this is a bit more explicit?_  
><strong>

**Like it? Hate it? Want me to take some African Dream Root and be trapped in someone else's dream forever? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	31. Running In Circles, Coming Up Tails

"Blaine! Blaine, wait!" The boy was virtually outside before Kurt even realised he'd woken up. Shit. He jumped up and sprinted after him, shouting a quick apology over his shoulder at the acne-scarred waiter standing speechless where they had just vacated.

A gust of icy wind hit him the instant he kicked open the front doors and Kurt staggered back, cringing at the wails they carried. He raised a hand to shield his face – not that it was any use in an Ohio winter storm – ears pricking at the distorted sounds, though the gale whipping around him made it impossible to discern the source.

Blaine couldn't have made it far in this, could he? He could barely see past the end of his nose in the darkness, the snow coming down in a thick blanket. Kurt stepped forward cautiously, squinting to the road – where he could just make out a dark lump hunched over.

"Oh, Blaine." Blaine was squatting over the gutter, eyes streaming. Kurt instantly dropped down on his knees behind him, trying to protect as much of the frozen boy as he could, one arm clutched around his stomach as the boy continued dry-heaving, the other supporting his head, fingertips skimming the flat hair. "I thought you just had the flu… I'm sorry."

Blaine sniffed pathetically, his body wracked with shivers. "Sorry for what?"

"I'm sorry for organising this whole thing and driving you all the way down to Lima when you felt so crap. And I'm sorry you're feeling so unwell anyway." Kurt moved even closer – Blaine had a fever to begin with; he didn't want to let the boy get worse with the extreme change in temperature. "Why didn't you say earlier?"

"I think I have ketones, Kurt, not gastro. When I told you how I was feeling earlier, I would have said. I complained enough as it is." His stomach stopped jumping for a while and Blaine melted into Kurt's arms. "But… that didn't happen, did it? I just dreamt it?"

"You haven't complained at all, no." Kurt ran his hands up and down Blaine's exposed arms. "We need to get you inside - "

" - SHIT!" The boys both screamed as the waiter Kurt had nearly bowled over earlier dropped down next to them, eyes narrowed in worry.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you!" The waiter laughed. "I'll bring you to the staff-room," he spoke quickly, handing Blaine a large take-away container. "It's next to a bathroom, it's warm, it's private. You can't be out here in this."

"Kurt, I don't want to." Blaine gripped the container tightly as Kurt placed an arm under his knees and hoisted him.

Kurt smiled grimly. "Hmm… Well, Blaine, what would you prefer – the chance to finally wreck this hideous uniform, or freezing to death? Just be sure to avoid the shoes, would you? They were rather expensive."

"You love the blazer, admit it." Blaine attempted a smile, his frozen lips slowly moving.

The waiter's lips began to perk up as he watched the two boys. "Better get inside before you both freeze! I hope it slows soon, I want to actually get home tonight."

They were a few paces from the door now, and Blaine started struggling weakly. "Kurt. Put me down. I can walk."

Kurt halted. He didn't want to make an even bigger scene than his exit had been… but he didn't want Blaine collapsing either.

"Put my arm over your shoulder if you're that worried, though adrenaline should have sent my reading up a bit." Blaine whined, turning puppy-dog eyes up to 11. "Please don't carry me in. Or else I might just have to find some way of destroying those amazing shoes."

"Fine." Kurt lowered his legs gently to the ground, like letting them drop too quickly would throw the Earth off its course into a huge meteor. He and the waiter each grabbed one of Blaine's arms, supporting him as they hurried inside, the door slamming.

"It's just through here, behind the bar." The waiter pulled them over. Kurt's eyes flicked briefly to the stage, watching Jeff, Nick, David and Thad – obviously standing in for Wes, who was still asleep – jump around onstage. He grinned at the irony of the lyrics.

_I've been unable_

_To put you down._

_I'm still learning things I ought to know by now._

They pushed through the various workers, entering a small office-cum-lounge. There were a couple of staff on the tattered lounge but they jumped up as soon as they saw the boys entering, snow like dandruff on their heads, soaked through to the bone and shivering.

"I'm Cody, by the way," the waiter held out a hand as they deposited Blaine first on the couch, throwing a white tablecloth over him. "I'll get you a few more tablecloths – that's the best we can do in terms of blankets and towels, I'm afraid."

"I'm Kurt," the countertenor smiled, gripping the warm hand. "That's Blaine. Thank you so much." He jumped in behind Blaine, throwing a protective arm around him as he started again to dry-retch.

Cody smiled, passing over a jug of water. "There's a toilet through that door there," he nodded over his shoulder, "when – and if – you need it. Can I get you anything else?"

"If it's not too much trouble…" Kurt was so surprised by the kindness of this stranger – he couldn't be more than a few years older than them – "where we were, is a blue bag – could you please bring it here? And lemonade or cordial if you have it."

"Give me a minute." Cody smiled and turned on his heels.

Blaine gasped, falling back against Kurt's chest again. "Always with the sugar," he croaked, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Aren't I sweet enough already?"

"I'm fattening you up so there's more meat to go in my pies – one step ahead of Mr Todd, I am," Kurt countered before turning more serious. "Now, I know I have no idea what I'm talking about, but I'm under the impression that gastro and diabetes don't mix too well."

"I don't think I'm actually going to hurl," Blaine mumbled. "And I don't think it's gastro. It's ketones." He pressed a shaking hand to his head, trying to slow his breathing.

"So… what does that mean?" Kurt peeled off his blazer, throwing it on the floor, and began to remove his jumper.

"When your body can't get the sugar it needs, it starts breaking down fat and protein." Blaine bent forward, head between his knees. "When it does that it makes this thing called ketones, which basically poison your organs. Because I've been low for so long, my ketone level must be through the roof…" He began rocking back and forth. "And because it's toxic, I can get really sick… So my apologies in advance."

Kurt sighed. He did not sign up for this. Of course he'd be there to help Blaine through whatever happened. But it killed him to see his best friend so sick, it really did. He wasn't resentful, not at all – he just wished he could do something, _anything_, to make him better. "If it's that… do I need to call an ambulance? A doctor? What do we need to do?"

Blaine coughed harshly before sitting up again. "It's coming in waves," he groaned, his face promptly switching from pale green to a brilliant red. "Don't freak out, Kurt. But if I do actually… you know, if I am sick… then I'll have to go straight to hospital. But I just… I can't think, Kurt, I'm sorry."

"Off with your shirt," Kurt ordered, trying to take as much charge of his situation as he could. The others were all busy for the moment – this was all up to him. "I know you started with a fever but you were in that cold with nothing on and you're soaked through." He started rolling the shirt up at the back, making it easier for Blaine, not letting himself think about their close proximity, of the smoothness of that olive skin, not watching his muscles flex as he raised an arm, and tugged the soaked cotton over his head.

Blaine shivered, wrapping the tablecloth tighter around himself. "Now what?"

Kurt rubbed him down quickly with a spare tablecloth before throwing his jumper over his head. "You put that on. Then sit back and try to rest. I'll keep you warm."

Blaine closed his eyes, trying to stop the room spinning, as he lay back in Kurt's arms. The next thing he knew, Cody was squatting in front of him, a glass of Fanta in his hand.

"It's from the tap, so it's quite flat." Cody smiled, handing a blue bag over to Kurt. "Is he going to be okay?"

Kurt forced a smile. "I hope so. Let's see how he goes with the soda." He took the cup, pressed it to Blaine's lips. "Come on, you can do this yourself, Blaine."

Blaine moaned pitifully, but took the cup. "Thanks. Sorry I'm such a pain."

Kurt just smiled. "I'll expect the exact same treatment next time I get sick. Which isn't going to happen, because, you know, I'm me. Practically perfect in every way – including my immune system."

"Cody, hit him for me, would you?" Blaine sipped slowly, not wanting to further upset his stomach. "Kurt, don't lie – you totally gave me this freaking cold in the first place."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Blaine. I have gone momentarily deaf and haven't the foggiest what you said." Kurt blushed, but otherwise managed to hide his feeling of guilt. "I'm not sure what else we can do for you. I'm not happy just sitting here like ducks. Is there someone I can call?"

Cody suddenly snatched Blaine's glass away as the boy's colour vanished, yet again bending forward over the plastic container. Kurt rubbed his back as the heaving shook his body – but nothing came out. Spitting out some excess saliva, Blaine took back the drink, holding it to his clammy forehead.

"Blaine? Blaine? I'm calling 9-1-1."

Blaine didn't know who the voice had come from, but he didn't care. He was NOT leaving here in an ambulance. "No."

"Blaine, how many fingers am I holding up?"

"No. In my cell… there are numbers… call… diabetes number… registrar…. At the hospital… they can tell you what to do."

"Keep drinking. Nice and slow. That's it, Blaine." Cody encouraged him, while Kurt flipped open the phone, simultaneously pulling out the blood testing kit.

"**Diabetes registrar, Westerville Children's Hospital, how may I take your call?"**

"Hi. My friend has diabetes, he's had a cold and stuff and his sugar levels have been really low and he said something about ketones but I don't really understand and I'm not sure what to do." Kurt rushed. He needed to know what to do. He looked down, busying himself with the kit – and even though this was only his third time with the machine, he just fell into rhythm, like he'd been doing this his whole life.

"**Calm down. Take a breath for me. What's your name, hon?"**

"Kurt Hummel. My friend is Blaine Anderson."

"**Thanks, Kurt. Now. Is Blaine conscious?**"

"He's drinking Fanta at the moment. He was talking to us but he doesn't seem quite right."

"**Do you know what his blood sugar level is currently?**"

Kurt glanced up as the testing kit beeped. "It's 57."

"**Okay. What exactly is wrong with him? Apart from the low blood sugar, which you seem to be managing with the soda.**"

"He… uh…" Kurt shook his head. Didn't he explain this just a minute before? "He has the flu, I think, but he started dry-retching about 15 minutes ago and he went really out of it at the last bout."

"**Has he vomited?**"

Blaine shook his head gently. "No," he choked. "It feels like ketones. But I can't take more insulin, I've been over 75 maybe twice in the last 3 days."

"**Is that Blaine?**"

"Yes," the voice was barely more than a whisper.

"**Unfortunately, there's not a whole lot we can do right at this minute but wait it out. I know you must feel pretty terrible, I'm sorry. Now, the most important thing right at this minute is to get your blood sugar up. Are you able to eat or drink anything?**"

"Nothing is coming back up. Yet."

"**Good. Now, in the next hour or two I want you to keep drinking sugary stuff – nothing diet, that'll only make you feel worse. Keep monitoring his blood sugar. If it's still low in 2 hours, or if he can't eat or drink, call us back. If he vomits or you get really worried, call straight for an ambulance.**"

Kurt nodded. "Okay. Thank you."

"**I may or may not talk to you later. Feel better soon, Blaine.**"

Kurt snapped the phone back shut, stowing it back in the front pocket of his bag. "Well, that was helpful."

Blaine dropped the glass against a little coffee table. "Don't be like that, Kurt. She gave you good advice." He sighed, massaging his sinuses as a headache began to spring back into life. "I feel a little better now, anyway."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, kiddo," Cody warned him. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you like – with that storm, no one's getting anywhere for the time being."

"I can't thank you enough, Cody," Blaine whispered, settling himself back against the couch. Kurt was so warm and comfortable…

Cody smiled. "Anytime. Now, I have to go – my break's just about ended. I'll try warning the other staff to be as quiet as possible for you. Hope you feel better soon, dude." And he backed out the door.

"Kurt. I want to go out." Blaine was slurring as he began to fall into sleep.

"And is moving right now going to kill you?" Kurt frowned – so maybe he didn't want to give up the body on his chest. It was only natural to want to protect him, right? "How about I bring the music to you instead?"

Blaine nodded, eyes closed, and Kurt began to sing quietly, his voice soothing.

_White lips, pale face,_

_Breathing in the snowflakes,_

_Burnt lungs, sour taste._

_Ripped gloves, raincoat,_

_Tried to swim to stay afloat,_

_Loose change, bank notes._

The lyrics were actually sort of sad, now Kurt really thought about them…

Jeff, Thad and David chose that moment to hurry into the room, all stopping and exchanging smiles as they surveyed the room – the two boys huddled under the tablecloth, the discarded shirt and blazer lying crumpled on the floor, Kurt's mouth close to Blaine's ear as he pulled him asleep.

_It's too cold outside_

_For angels to fly,_

_To fly, to fly,_

_For angels to die._

* * *

><p><strong>I feel so evil publishing this. I'm sorry, Blaine. I love you, I really do.<strong>

**Songs are You're a God - Vertical Horizon, and The A Team - Ed Sheeran. Which I would kill to hear Kurt/Chris sing. Almost in the same key so you get that incredible warmth... *shivers***

**So I've been thinking lately... I'm actually kinda sticking to my New Year's Resolution. See, all of last year was really hard for me. So I basically resolved in late December to start taking charge of my life again and be a bit selfish... And it actually seems to be working! This time last year I was preparing for a funeral - one which I spoke at. Now, I'm preparing for a trip to the states, 5 days of which will be spent by myself in New York! I don't know what it is, but something seems to be working...**

**So I've been madly planning stories for you all. I should be able to get a few things written for you while I'm on the plane or in transit - I worked out that to get to New York I'm spending 21 hours on a plane. And craploads waiting for planes. But my hotel doesn't have wireless, and I'm not taking my computer with me, so I will be MIA for at least a week. :P**

**Really hoping it snows. I've never actually seen it snow before.**

**It's 2 am and I have to be up in 4.5 hours, so I shall go run away now. Plus I have an 8 hour shift tomorrow...**

**Throw in some sort of disclaimer - you get the gist. In other words, please don't sue me.**

**Thanks again to everyone. Shout-outs to Different Child, riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795, Stranger on the Bus, jensenfan4ever, kaylastargirl, and xXLittle Rose AngelXx. You are all wonderful. And if I'm yet to reply to something, my apologies - I've been running around like a mad woman cleaning and organising my trip and writing...**

**Like it? Hate it? Want me to develop the Midas touch for you so I can't write because every keyboard I touch turns to gold? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	32. You Can Lead a Horse to Water

"Well, hi, guys. How are we all doing tonight?" Jeff stepped up to the mic as Tina and Quinn stepped back. There was a quiet mumbling in the audience, and Jeff smirked. "Now, guys, come on. That was pretty pathetic, really. How are we doing?" Variations of 'great' were called out, and this time several people cheered.

Jeff's grin widened. "Now, my apologies. I'm not French or Italian or Irish or any sort of ethnicity with a sexy accent." A flash of movement caught his eye, and he paused as he watched Blaine, closely followed by Kurt, hurtle his way outside. He swallowed, the only action of acknowledgement he allowed himself without breaking his stage presence, before continuing. "But as you've hopefully guessed by now, I am, in fact, Australian, and the monsters I happen to call me mates have decided it might be amusing for me to serenade you with my awful nasal inflections.

"Now, I'm not going to be chucking any shrimp – or kangaroo or emu, for that matter, and yes, I have tried both – on the barbie for ya tonight. But I do have a little Down-Under treat for ya! The song I'm about to sing is from a tiny band back home by the name of _The Madness Method_. They describe their music as spock – ska pop rock." Nick, Finn, Andrew and Artie began to set up various instruments behind him – brass, drums, guitar.

"I know Valentine's Day isn't everyone's cuppa tea. So, here's a number they like to call _Better Without You_."

Jeff slung on his electric guitar and began picking out the main riff, very bright and upbeat. He jumped, nodding at the band and started dancing around the stage as their own instruments joined his guitar.

_I shave my legs once a week._

_I don't censor what I speak._

_I must say, everything is better without you!_

_I sleep diagonally._

_I wear skirts above my knee._

_I must say, everything is better without you!_

Wow. This was what performing was all about, wasn't it? That buzz, seeing a whole heap of people enjoying your music, even if it's not your song and they've never heard it before. Jeff turned around, catching Nick's eye, wondering how the crowd would react if he ever did perform this in a dress, just to increase the humour, of course.

He glanced into the audience again – this time his eyes sought Wes, who looked to be just starting to stir. He was still leaning against Santana, mouth drooping open while the girl traced her finger around the curves on his face. Jeff couldn't be happier for his friend – it looked like everything was starting to work out. Wes had finally dropped that banshee Eliza, and there was definitely something going on between him and the gorgeous Latina. And Kurt and Blaine, despite the awkwardness that was definitely going to be hanging around a while, were definitely on the edge of that cusp. And himself? Well, he had Nick. He must have done something to please the gods, because here he was, performing at a restaurant, singing songs from home with the love of his life a few feet away playing the trumpet.

_No, I don't regret_

_The times you spat in my face._

_No, I don't regret_

_All the times you disgraced me._

_Please, don't take offence_

_Cos I'm not being nasty, baby._

_It's just better without you._

He couldn't tell if Wes was awake or not by the time his song ended, so amid the applause David and Thad, who knew the song like his mother's spaghetti, hurried to join them on stage.

It was exhilarating. Because of the nature of the event – fairly intimate, lots of teenagers around – most of the people were singing along. With his voice. It was just surreal.

But it was short-lived. They had just hit the second verse when Blaine walked – or, more technically speaking, was carried – back in, supported fully by Kurt and someone Jeff assumed must be a waiter, rapidly disappearing through an oak door behind the bar. Jeff turned to the other Warblers, the shock and worry written on his face similarly echoed in theirs. Whatever it was that was happening, a year of rooming with Blaine wasn't necessary to know that he desperately needed medical attention – and now he was left alone with poor Kurt, who'd only just found out that Blaine was diabetic and barely knew how to treat a hypo, let alone anything else that could get thrown at him.

Their song ended, and handing over to Mercedes, Nick started to hunt down Mr Pedy, while Jeff, Thad and David forced their way behind the bar to see Blaine.

"Kurt. Are you okay? Is he okay? What's happening?" As soon as his song had finished, they all hurled questions at him, forming a circle around the tattered couch. But Kurt simply raised a finger to his lips – hush – and gave a weary smile.

"I'm fine, just seriously worried. Blaine's… well, he says he has ketones from going low. I talked to the hospital and they've pretty much put a 2 hour time-frame on us. I'm just hoping the storm clears soon, because in 15 minutes or so I think it's going to get pretty difficult to leave. We won't be able to get back to Dalton for a few hours at least."

Blaine groaned and they all jumped, David instinctively grabbing the vomit-container, but he just curled into himself a bit more in Kurt's arms.

"You should probably tell whoever from New Directions that wants to go, to go," Kurt added as an afterthought. "How's Wes?"

"Much better, Kurt, thank you." Wes smiled down at the couch, walking through the door and perching on the opposite arm. "Amazing the difference some acetaminophen, a bit of sugar, a hoooooot woman and a good nap can make."

David clapped him on the shoulder. "God, it's good to see you back."

Jeff was frowning. "Glad you're better, Wes. But, mate, we need to work out what to do. There's a huge snowstorm, and… well…" He waved a limp hand at Blaine. "That."

Wes paused, face falling. "Thad? How bad is the snow?"

"Kurt was out in it…"

"I don't think it's safe for us to go all the way to Westerville right now," Kurt spoke up. "I don't know where it's coming from, how much it's dumping… I don't think we should leave for a couple of hours at least."

Wes nodded. "Fine. Thad, tell the McKinley guys they can go home if they want, and spread news around to the Warblers we'll be here a bit longer than expected. Give them free rein if they want to perform." As Thad saluted and left the room, Wes turned back to Kurt. "What's his BSL?"

"57, about 10 minutes ago. He's had soda since, and fell asleep straight after."

"I'm assuming, by that plastic tub and the fact that he's wearing your sweater, that poor old Blaine isn't doing as well as we'd like?" Seeming to realise his words weren't making a whole lot of sense, Wes rephrased, the clinical side of his brain starting to kick in. "Has he actually vomited? And have you called the hospital? What arrangements have been made?"

Jeff watched Kurt sigh and tell Wes everything that had happened. This whole night was just crazy. His friends were crazy. Honestly, how many people would push themselves to breaking point for another? It was a credit to the school, really. He'd been pretty lucky – Dalton was chosen for him because of his parents, rather than so many of his friends, who'd sought sanctuary in the strict no-bullying policies. But regardless, the bonds that they formed were incredible. Sure, they'd all be boys and laugh it off, and in all honestly Jeff was silently ridiculing himself for even having this imaginary conversation, but like it or not, Dalton was a huge family, and Jeff loved every single one of them.

"… tonsillitis, if how I'm feeling is anything to go by." Wes' coughing brought Jeff back to reality. "But you're right – ketones are not good. At all. Jeff, did you ever have to deal with anything like this?"

The blonde shook his head. "He spewed a couple of times when I was around, but I always got the nurse and she dealt with it. He's mentioned ketones before, but he just took more insulin for it, and if he's low he can't really do that, can he?"

"The hospital said to bring his blood sugar up. I don't know if that will fix him or not though." Kurt looked down, brushing away a few curls that were plastered by sweat to Blaine's forehead. "We just need more time. If he gets better, then we're good. If he doesn't we'll take him to hospital. Nearest is probably Wilson Memorial…"

"I'll drive him," Jeff immediately said. "Wes, you're sick, too; you need rest. Nick can come keep us company, and I seriously doubt I'm going to be able to separate Klaine."

"Klaine?" Kurt began, finally, to smile again.

"Or Kurt Co-Blaine, if you so desire. We prefer Klaine. Much easier to say than Kurt-and-Blaine all the time."

"So, is that a plan?" David asked, standing up. "Because I think Trent and I have a date with Mack the Knife, if I'm not wrong."

Wes waved a hand, shooing him out. "Go. Have fun. We'll work everything else out and let you know."

Jeff and Wes turned to Blaine again as the moaning restarted. Kurt frowned, pointing out one of his arms – "Those are some crazy goosebumps he's got going on."

"I'd give him Tylenol, but he'd probably just throw it up, and I really don't want that happening." Wes glanced at Blaine's fever-flushed cheeks. "How long 'til we call the hospital?"

As if triggered by the word, Blaine sat bolt upright. "Can we go outside? Please?" He clutched his stomach, adrenaline forcing him to his feet. "I need air. Now."

"Whoa, there!" Jeff held out his arms, ready to catch Blaine as he staggered forwards. "Will the door do?"

But Blaine turned the other way, running straight to the bathroom, the door slamming behind him – though not quick enough to block out the sounds of his harsh retching.

The three remaining boys stopped where they stood, looking at each other with wide eyes. That changed things considerably.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for taking so long to get this up! The chapter just did <em>not<em> want to get written. At all. I blame Wes entirely for this. Just because he decided to wake up :P**

**So, the beginning of it is sort of my way of saying, go check out my best friend's brother's band! They're unique, is really all I can say. I love their music dearly - and not just because of my friend. Their songs are really upbeat and uplifting, and the videos are really quirky and just amazing. Chapter title, yes it does come from the saying, but it's used in another one of their songs - _You Were Right_.**

**So, I may have discovered that while I'm in New York, Telly Leung is performing off-Broadway in Godspell... I'm having fun imagining myself hurtling abuse at him for what Wes' character does to me :P**

**Um... It's 0130. I'm just going to post this and hope it isn't too terrible for you.**

**Also, my apologies for all the reviews and emails that I'm yet to reply to... I've been either working, writing, cleaning my room (I can see floor and desk and everything now - it's hideous!) or frantically trying to work out my US trip (a couple of spanners got thrown in, but I think I've sorted them out now :D)**

**Thank you soooooo much to everyone who has ever read, favourited, subscribed or reviewed! I've passed 175 reviews! Which is seriously crazy... So. Shout-outs to: Different Child (and I'm sooooooo sorry, there's so much for me to reply to! I promise I'm not ignoring you, I'm just busy! And prompts are most definitely being considered!), triedtolie, xXLittle Rose AngelXx, riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795, Stranger on the Bus, annkum, and jensenfan4ever! You guys are brilliant, you really are, and I probably still wouldn't be writing this were it not for you!**

**Okay. Love it? Hate it? Want me to eat some of the magic pixie dust I found on my desk and be instantly shrunk down so I can't see the screen, let alone type this up for you? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	33. The Crumbs of a Crust of Bread

Kurt was the first to react, sweeping after Blaine, holding him in his arms and rubbing small gentle circles on his back, trying not to concentrate on the toilet bowl in front of him. "Breathe, Blaine, that's okay. Let it out."

Wes grabbed Blaine's testing kit and phone, both of which were lying on the table, fingers already dialling the registrar as he walked to the bathroom door. He paused just outside, one knee bent with his foot on the door as he feigned calmness and boredom.

Jeff poured a glass of water and hurried in after Kurt. "Is that corn relish, Blaine? Great choice!"

Blaine snorted, bloodshot eyes meeting Jeff's as he gratefully accepted the cup. "I'm sorry." He spat back into the bowl.

"So's Kurt's jumper," Jeff told him, as Blaine unconsciously rubbed his mouth on the sleeve. "That's one of the best things about Maccas, isn't it? Tastes just as good coming back up."

Blaine coughed before resting his forehead on the cool porcelain. "Jeff. Please. Don't make me laugh. My tummy really hurts."

Kurt clutched him tighter, feeling his heart twang. Blaine never complained. Ever. And here he was, looking so sick and tired and miserable and helpless, using childish words like 'tummy', and Kurt just wanted to hold him and sing to him and kiss away those tears and make him all magically better.

The blood testing kit came floating through the air as Wes finally reopened the door and chucked it in. "Check him," he called, turning the phone onto speaker.

"Sure thing," Jeff laughed, shaking his head. "You doing okay there?"

"Fine," came the gruff response, the don't-press-me attitude coming through loud and clear. Wes was obviously not impressed. "Is it safe for me to come in yet?"

"Wes doesn't do vomit," Jeff explained to a confused-looking Kurt. "And we've got enough on our hands with this poor bastard here, we don't need anyone else to clean up."

"Really?" Kurt was surprised. "I know vomit isn't exactly – to use one of your bloody expressions – everyone's cuppa tea, but… this is Wes. Interesting…"

Jeff grinned. "Blimey, we'll make an Aussie of you yet, Kurt!" He turned to Blaine, crouching by his side as he busied himself with his finger. "You done, Blaine?"

Blaine was shaking again, his whole body jumping with the spasms, but he managed to nod before nuzzling into Kurt's shoulder. "I don't want to go to hospital," he whispered, his hot breath tickling Kurt's neck.

"We don't really have a choice, Blaine." Wes stepped over the pair, flushing the toilet, looking only slightly nauseated. "The nurse is making some calls for us, trying to find a doctor to give us some help. How are you feeling?"

Blaine's glucometer beeped and they looked down, groaning at the large **52**. "I want to die."

"Please do," Nick announced as he joined the confusion in the room, sitting himself down on Jeff's lap to save space. "It'd make knocking you off that solo spot so much easier."

Blaine flushed, and Kurt didn't know whether to be grateful for the tiny appearance of colour on his face, or worried that the only colour was due to embarrassment. "You'll have to prise that from my cold, dead hands, Nick," he whispered, but his eyes were slightly more light-hearted. He sat up straight, looking at his friends around him. And despite everything – despite the horrible fear he felt whenever he fell ill, remnants of all those years with his father just as much as the worry borne from the diabetes – he felt lucky. Because all these people cared enough to look after him – even more so, Nick and Jeff were joking around like nothing was wrong. Because really, that was all he wanted – to pretend everything was normal.

"**Dr Poulson speaking. How might I help you?**" Wes held a finger to his lips as the on-hold music cut from Blaine's phone in his hands.

"I'm here with Blaine Anderson," Wes spoke for them, his voice remarkably steady. "I believe he's a patient of yours. His blood sugar has been low for about 3 days, he thinks he's been suffering from ketones and he's just begun vomiting."

"**When you say low… How low are we talking?**"

"Everything between about 25 and 60." Blaine spat into the phone.

There was an intake of breath from the other end of the line as the information was processed. "**Blaine. How are you?**"

"I feel like shit, to be brutally honest," he croaked. "Wouldn't you?"

"**Mmm. Can you drink anything for me? And how soon can you get to the hospital?**"

Wes grabbed the phone, flinching as Blaine bent forward over the toilet yet again. "We gave him some Fanta about 10 minutes ago, but everything's come back up. We're in Lima currently though – I'm not too sure what the weather is like up your end, but it's not safe to drive at the moment over here."

Kurt held Blaine steady as his whole body shook, wiping his face clean with moist toilet paper as the boy collapsed back into his arms, murmuring soft reassurances into his ears. "We'll get through this."

"**Okay. The first thing you need to do when I hang up the phone is to call an ambulance – they'll be able to navigate through the storm. I don't want you boys driving, no matter how calm it may seem. Is that clear?**"

"Yes." Wes was nodding. "What can we do until the ambulance gets here?"

"**That brings me to point number two. Have any of you heard of glucagon rescue?**"

They turned to look at Jeff, who had the best idea of any of us, but he just shook his head. "Nah, he's never mentioned it to me."

"**Not surprising. I'm assuming you have a glucagon kit with you? Blaine's always been prepared for anything.**"

Wes laughed, rummaging through Blaine's kit. "Yeah, that's Blaine alright. I've got the shot here."

"**Now, I want you to make up the glucagon for me, but don't draw it back into the syringe – leave it in the vial. Does that make sense?**"

"Injecting the water into the vial… mixing it with the powder… withdrawing the syringe without taking any meds up…" Wes verbalised his actions.

"**Great. Now, take up one of his normal needles and draw up 15 units of the glucagon. Inject him with that. That should tide you through until the ambulance gets here.**"

Wes crawled on his knees to Blaine. "Where do you want the jabby-jabby?"

It was credit to how ill he felt that Blaine didn't protest – he just turned to the side a bit more and rolled down the waistband on his pants. Wes gathered up a tiny roll of fat – trying desperately not to think about what he was doing – and stuck the needle in. "Now what?"

"**Call the ambulance now. He might vomit again, but just keep him comfortable. If you get worried, you can always ring me back. Is there anything else I can help you with?**"

Wes cleared his throat, looking at the blank expressions on everyone's faces as he rolled Blaine's pants back up and rubbed his back. "Thank you."

"**No worries. Get better soon, Blaine!**"

And she was gone.

Straight away, Wes sprung to his feet. "Sorry guys, just… yeah. I'll be outside the door, okay? I'll come back once I've spoken to the ambulance."

That left Klaine and Niff in the bathroom. Blaine was curled tightly into Kurt, looking about to cry. "I'm so sorry, guys."

Kurt hugged him. "Blaine. It's not your fault. We just want to see you get better."

Jeff took his cup, refilled it with clean water and passed it back. "Plus we're all sick fetishists who just like seeing you miserable. You're actually doing us a favour, Blaine."

Blaine threw out a hand. "I hate you."

"Of course you do. We all sing so much better than you." Nick told him, grinning. "We love you too."

"Sing to me?"

Nick smiled – this was not an odd request. He was more than used to singing lullabies – his sister asked for them all the time when he was at home. He closed his eyes, snuggling into Jeff's chest, while his voice filled the acoustics of the white tiled room, his vibrato chilling yet calming. Blaine lowered his head, feeling his eyes pulled closed.

_Tell me, tell me_

_What makes you think that you are invincible?_

_I can see it in your eyes that you're so sure._

_Please don't tell me that I'm the only one that's_

_Vulnerable._

_Impossible._

__**HEY GUYS! Steph is running away.,... But not to work! (that's later. WAIT STOP STEPH. You want these people to think you have a life, remember!) Yeah. I'm getting a haircut and leaving in 5 minutes so wooooooo!**

**Song is Vulnerable, by Secondhand Serenade.**

**I've had to use glucagon rescue before, when I got gastro the last few times. It's awful. But it's been so long, I couldn't quite remember perfectly, so diabetics, if there are discrepancies, please let me know!**

**Thanks again to everyone. Shout-outs to beth1234, xXLittle Rose AngelXx, riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795, jensenfan4ever, annkum, and Stranger on the Bus!**

**Love it? Hate it? Want my insulin to be crushed on the plane so I can't write for you? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	34. I Will Dance in the Rain

"Yep… Yes, of course… Way too much practise, unfortunately… An hour? Sure. So when should we… Alright. And food?... Sure… Thank you very much. Bye." Wes hung up and chucked his phone back in his pocket, leaning back against the doorframe and kneading his forehead with his knuckles, like he was trying to press all of the day's stress out.

"What's wrong, sugar?" The clicking of those amazing stilettos announced Santana's arrival before she had even spoken. The girl knelt down next to Wes, who had slid to the floor, putting an arm around his shoulders. "No one ever just cut-and-runs from Santana, especially not when they've spent the past hour asleep on her lap."

Wes groaned. "Thank you. Blaine's sick."

Santana shook her head, eyes blank.

"Blaine… Lead soloist, Blaine, pain-in-my-ass, Blaine, hobbit, Blaine…?"

"Ah." The face matched with the name and she wrinkled her nose. "Ew."

"You have no idea." Wes attempted a smile but it got stuck, so he rubbed his nose. "Had to get an ambulance for him. It's kinda my job to look after him."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you bother?" Santana shuffled forward so that she was sitting opposite Wes, her legs bent underneath her. "I mean, you have teachers. Why do you have to bother?"

"He's my friend." Wes stared at her.

"Awww, that's so sweet," Santana cawed, her usual snarky tone almost absent from her words. She ran a finger up and down Wes' arm. "You know, I've always found doctor's kinda hot." She leant forwards, whispering, her lips brushing past his earlobe.

Wes shivered. "Thank you?"

She raised a finger, putting it vertical across his lips. "Stop talking." Then she rocked backwards, uncrossing her legs and going up on her knees, and before Wes even had time to admire those beautifully sculpted thighs, all he could focus on was her eager tongue in his mouth.

* * *

><p>"The ambulance thinks they can get here in a little over an hour," Wes announced as he walked back in, crouching beside Blaine. "How are you doing?"<p>

"I threw up, Wes." Apparently Blaine had regressed back to a childlike state, lying on Kurt listlessly, Jeff's blazer on his shoulders and Nick's clutched close to his chest. Kurt was gently swaying, singing under his breath.

Wes nodded in sympathy, though his automatic reaction was to take a step back. "You still need to be sick?"

Blaine shook his head. "There's nothing left in my tummy." He was deathly pale though.

Wes turned to Jeff, who was sittiing with his head against the sink. "Blood sugar level?"

"90 and holding." The blonde caught site of Wes' bruised lips and grinned. "So, uh, what did Santana have to say?"

"Oh, shut up," Wes told them. "I was kinda… attacked by her…"

Kurt grinned, his song ending. "Yeah, she does that. Apparently I'm the only one safe, because my 'testicles can't decide whether to descend or pop out my chest.'"

"She said that?" Kurt couldn't tell which of the three (coherent) boys was more shocked.

"That and more." He laughed. "I have my theories… But you get used to it. It's a form of affection, really." He looked down at his watch before glancing back up at Wes. "How'd you escape?"

"She had to go sing…" Wes blushed. "Unfortunately." He added under his breath, and Jeff's grin widened, elbowing the senior gently.

Blaine sat up suddenly, and Kurt moved into holding position – but he stayed upright, nowhere near the toilet. "Is it snowing outside? Kurt? Can we go outside? Pretty please?"

The boys burst into laughter. Of all the things to expect… But it was Blaine. Sick or not, of course he'd get excited about _snow_.

"Is… that a yes? Pretty please? With chocolate and cherries and Johnny Depp on top?"

They all turned to Wes. "What are you looking at me for?" He knelt close to Blaine again, brushing some hair from his face as he felt for a fever. So, there was always the danger of Blaine getting sick again – which they could manage just outside the door – or of losing him in the cold. But then again, some fresh air – they were all trying not to breathe from their noses, even Wes, who couldn't smell all that much regardless – might actually help. If they took everything with them, and just sat by the door… "Let's go. _Slowly_," he cautioned Blaine, as the boy stood up too fast and staggered into the wall.

Nick caught him, spinning him around slowly and taking him from behind, Jeff doing the same on the other side. Blaine leant back against them and giggled. "_Frosty the snowman was a jolly happy soul…_"

Kurt whacked him on the back of the head affectionately with his testing kit. "Idiot. I'm going to sing after Santana, Blaine. Do you want to watch?"

"What's Kurtie singing?" Blaine was all smiles suddenly – his blood sugar must have started rising again.

"To repeat from earlier…" he winked, "that's for me to know and you to find out."

"But Kurt…" Blaine whined. "Tell me!"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you, Blaine."

They were at the back door to the restaurant now, and the change in atmosphere from earlier was incredible. Only a handful of New Directions remained – and about the same number of audience members. It looked like they'd be performing for the staff mainly, until the storm had eased enough for the boys to get back to school.

They spotted a booth by the door, and the boys crawled in, making sure to support Blaine while giving him an easy exit route. Wes perched on the corner of the table as Santana came strutting over to the table, singing:

_And it's all I live for,_

_The air I breathe._

_So it's all the same to me._

_Yes, it's all the same to me._

_Well it's all the same to me._

She finished with a flourish and kissed him quickly before running back to the stage with the mic.

Meanwhile, Kurt stood up. "Blaine, I have to go now."

Blaine shook his head. "No."

"Don't you want to hear me sing?"

"No."

Kurt sighed. "I'll come straight back, I promise."

"I know I'm being really childish," Blaine suddenly said, as he suddenly found the ability to think, "but I don't want to let you go."

Kurt smiled down at his friend, shaking his head. "One song. I promise. That's it."

Blaine clutched Nick's blazer tightly, finally dropping Kurt's hand and picking up one of Wes' instead. "Love you, Kurt."

"You too, Blaine. More than you could imagine."

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry it's a little... sloppy. I wanted to write something, had it all nicely planned out, and then discovered it was waaaaay too late to get it done well enough. So my apologies for lying about the filler chapters, but I do have something really nice planned for the next chapter, which I'm aiming to have up for you by Tuesday, so you're not left waiting a month for it! And I've chucked in some Westana for you (which almost turned into smut...) I've also got the prologue for the other story leading from this written. So I'll upload that at some point in time, but I'll give you details once it's done.<strong>

**Actually, speaking of smut... Were I (note the use of the subjunctive here, dear readers) to write smut of some form, would any of you read it? I'm debating... though I reckon I could have some fun with Westana...**

**OMG. 191 reviews. You guys are nuts. I love you all dearly, readers, subscribers and reviewers! Shout-outs to: xXLittle Rose AngelXx, inthelookingglass, triedtolie, Different Child, beth1234, jensenfan4ever, riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795 and Stranger on the Bus! It's been lovely reading everything that you've written! And the conversations I've had - always heaps of fun! (Apologies for my incessant rambling yet again).**

**So... it's past 2330 here and I have to be up in 5 hours for, you guessed it, work. But it's my last shift before going away, and I'm spending half the day shopping with one of my clients so, you know, whatever. It'll be fun.**

**Like it? Hate it? Want me to run myself over with one of the wheelchairs tomorrow morning? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	35. Both Our Lips Are Made of Candy

_The dawn is breaking,_

_The light shining through._

_You're barely waking_

_And I'm tangled up in you._

Blaine smiled, eyes following every tiny movement of Kurt's as he sang on stage, just him and a microphone, Trent, Thad and Callum gently humming behind him. He rested a clammy temple on the back of his hands, elbows bent and flat against the table. He drank in a breath of cold air – the boys had cracked open the window a tiny bit for him – as he waited for the vertigo to dissipate. And with Wes' strong hands massaging his neck – which was tense like no one could believe – and Kurt's husky honey tones ebbing around him, he could almost swallow the anxiety and nausea still swelling in his throat.

He was originally meant to be singing this song, Blaine suddenly realised, but he was actually glad that Kurt had taken up it up. It was so… unique. The unadulterated emotion billowing from him, filling the room with melancholy and joy and hope and loss and serenity… Sure, Blaine was good – he didn't believe in all that false modesty crap – but, Kurt… Well, what Kurt was couldn't be put into words.

_I'm open, you're closed._

_Where I follow, you'll go._

_I worry I won't see your face_

_Light up again._

Oh, God. A song about love. Well, of course it was – it was Valentine's Day, after all. But all Kurt could think about was Blaine – worrying sick. Usually in this sort of situation he'd just pick some random song with powerful lyrics – yeah, he was a Broadway diva, alright – and belt it out. But with the lack of sleep and the virtually constant singing as he tried to soothe Blaine, he'd had to resort to using voice-saving techniques, relying much more heavily on his diaphragm, so his voice would have to sound a lot purer. Though it'd be pretty raw – especially considering how late he'd stepped up to take the song.

It was funny. Kurt… well, Kurt knew he liked Blaine a lot – and he'd joke around about being in love with the guy. But was it true love? Or just an infatuation? Any thought of love or marriage or even one of the Warbler's girlfriends immediately turned to Blaine. And deep down, Kurt knew he would do whatever it took for him. If Blaine told him to jump, he'd do it.

But… no. Kurt had to keep reminding himself that Blaine needed a friend more than anything right now. It would hurt – this whole week had been painful – but he wouldn't allow himself to fall even further into whatever confusing mess he'd already started to find himself.

Huh. Maybe Kurt wasn't as open to his emotions as he'd originally thought…

_Even the best fall down sometimes._

_Even the wrong words seem to rhyme._

_Out of the doubt that fills my mind,_

_I somehow find_

_You and I collide._

Blaine lifted his head from the table to find everyone – including, he thought, Kurt, all the way up on stage – staring at him. "What?"

"He's singing that to you," Wes told him, giving his shoulders a final squeeze. "I mean… what are the chances, you know?"

"Yeah." Blaine closed his eyes, hoping that he wasn't dictating the sudden flashback.

_Here we go. Another song. Time for yet another impromptu performance, to shut down the school… Blaine wouldn't usually complain about all this, but it just wasn't right. Maybe he'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed that morning. But he'd been late to class, earning himself a detention, someone had stolen Wes' newest gavel so he'd be listening to him bitch about it all afternoon, his blood sugar level was running on the upper side of normal so he was probably coming down with yet another bug, his hair was starting to ungel itself, his watch had died so he was forced to rely on the slightly-ridiculous pocket-watch he'd inherited before getting kicked out – which, he'd just discovered, was running late anyway, so Wes was going to be pissed at him… It just really wasn't a great day._

_Oh. My. God. Someone was interrupting him. Didn't they realise who they were talking to? That he had to run?_

_Wait. That's not quite a Dalton uniform… Close, but no brandy. Though Blaine definitely gave him props for trying._

_This was strange, though. Why him? There were heaps of other boys around on the staircase. But… Blaine felt like he had to get to know this kid better – though he didn't have a clue as to why._

"_I know a short cut."_

_Blaine, what the hell are you doing? You're late! The hall is just around the corner! Why are you grabbing this kid's hand, running through the back corridors with him? What the hell are you trying to achieve?_

_And then the singing… Funny that he was just complaining about it only a minute ago, whereas now he was throwing all his efforts into showing off. Was he flirting? Blaine Anderson, shell of a man, completely clueless, flirting, with another boy (whose sexuality, despite the raging gaydar, was still undetermined) at school?_

_Yep. Apparently so._

"Of all the people he could have asked, it had to be me." Blaine was smiling. "You're right."

"And, I mean," Nick spoke up quietly, looking thoughtful, "I think we can safely say he's seen you at your worst. Blaine, if Kurt still talks to you tomorrow – and we're pretty damn sure he will – you better do something. Your obliviousness, while endearing, is seriously frustrating!"

Jeff leant over to Nick, kissing his hand. "That's how the best relationships start though, sweetie. Remember what they all told us?"

They smiled, nuzzling noses, and Blaine looked back to Kurt.

_I'm quiet, you know._

_You make a first impression._

_I've found I'm scared to know_

_I'm always on your mind._

Kurt couldn't help but smile at that lyric – meeting Blaine was, well, an interesting experience. The words had barely left his mouth when the kid had smiled, grabbed his hand and led him on a merry chase to the choir room (which, Kurt was rather amused to discover about a month later, was just through the other door from the foyer), culminating in him being serenaded to Katy Perry, of all things. Planned or not, that sort of experience is one you'd never forget.

It was funny how they'd just clicked. Like they'd known. And even then – a mere ten minutes after meeting the guy – Blaine could read him like a new set of sheet music. And while Kurt was proud of his bitch-face, his poker face was so strong that even Tina refused to play card games with him.

And it wasn't just then. So many things, so many tiny insignificant things – like the casual slipping of a phone number into his pocket, or the various one-worded text messages – COURAGE, DREAM, BELIEVE, that sort of thing – they always came at just the right time. And just the right word to cheer Kurt up, to give him hope or confidence or belief in humanity again.

_Don't stop here._

_I lost my place._

_I'm close behind._

Wes took the proffered microphone from Kurt's hands as he wandered over, putting it smack in the middle as the now-five boys around the table broke into the bridge. He actually felt special, watching the two boys (Kurt was pulling one of Blaine's ringlets) – both were so lost before. Still were, really. They'd had horrible experiences in their past, some similar, some not so much. But they'd sought the safety of Dalton's blazer – they'd found each other. And somehow he knew that they would help the other find themselves, too.

_Even the best fall down sometimes._

_Even the stars refuse to shine._

_Out of the back you fall in time._

_I finally find_

_That you and I collide._

_You finally find that you and I collide._

Kurt went to stand back up but found Blaine's hand caught on his shirt, tugging him back down. He spun around, prying the fingers loose – but something made him sit back down. Like he was possessed.

He wasn't scared. Hell, Kurt wasn't even nervous. And so, without skipping a beat, just trusting that everything was right, he closed his eyes and leant forward.

At first his lips brushed against Blaine's, which were soft and squishy and tasted horribly like acid drops. But then Blaine leant forward too, pressing inwards, putting more pressure on, reassuring Kurt that it was okay, that he wasn't about to up and run – even if he couldn't necessarily commit to much more for the time being.

It was short and chaste and sweet. And Kurt pulled away, blushing madly, to a restaurant full of applauding people.

* * *

><p><strong>Nawww. I love them.<strong>

**Wow. I just realised I never really end up writing what I set out for... but this is okay, I'll deal with this :P**

**So, like always, it's a ridiculous time - 2 am, in fact - so you can probably guess what I'm going to say. BUT a few things... So... I'm going to New York tomorrow! For five days. Then spending time with my Dad and his family in Washington state. And my plane in the morning leaves at 0745 so I have to leave the house at about 0600 to catch the plane so... well, I might actually sleep on my way to LA (ugh. NO, YOU ARE NOT DR SEUSS, STEPH). But I'm not bringing my laptop and my hotel doesn't have wifi so no updates for a while... I'll see what I can do at my Dad's house. But I will keep writing for you.**

**So I hope this is okay to end on for the moment. Story (obviously) has to continue. But I like my fluff. And I love the song - which is** **_Collide, _by Howie Day.**

**Oooh. I took a client shopping yesterday. It was so much fun! We scared a bunch of Target workers by sneaking up on them and rearranging their shelves... and we nearly hit a few little kids and drove around in circles... Highlight of the day (this was hiLARious) was probably pulling a good 2 inches of noodle out of her nose. I don't even want to know how she got the strength to get it up there. I'm convinced she's a little kid - the noodle thing, plus the scaring thing, plus the crazy desire to bash her chair into EVERYTHING she could... :P We had fun though :P**

**Okay. Here's a present for you - a disclaimer! We haven't had one in a while. So yes, like always, despite the fact that I'm seeing one of them on Broadway, I do not own Glee in any legal use of the term - only the right to view and listen to it.**

**Thanks again to everyone who has read, favourited, reviewed, subscribed... Shout outs to xXLittle Rose AngelXx, Different Child, HeartOfHandprints, riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795, and Stranger on the Bus!**

**Like it? Hate it? Want me to be shrunk to miniscule size, mistaken for a chocolate chip and baked in a cookie? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	36. With Blue Skies Ahead

"Pinch me," Blaine moaned as he pulled away. "Please. Someone."

Kurt stared at him, eyes crinkling in confusion, the smile slowly dripping from his face. Right. Blaine was still dangerously sick, despite whatever emotions the both of them found themselves caught up in. That was completely inappropriate and they were in Lima for Christ sake and kissing was probably the last thing that Blaine needed and oh God what had he gotten himself into?

He watched Blaine slowly blink and swallow, trying desperately not to wince as he really focused on the ghost-like translucency the sophomore's skin had taken on in the last hour. "I need to know this is real. Please." Blaine coughed weakly into his fist, like if he forced out too much air his head would deflate. "Ow! Wes!"

The Asian grinned, raising the pitch of his voice to adopt the stereotypical accent and flapping a sassy hand. "Oh honey, don't pretend you didn't enjoy it."

Blaine shrugged, winking, and the boys burst into laughter.

Suddenly Tina appeared at their table, her arms disappearing from Kurt's chest as soon as he'd recognised their existence. He handed the glittered microphone to her as she hurried up to the stage, his other hand hovering over Blaine's curls. "That really happened…"

Blaine collapsed onto the table. "I'm so sorry, Kurt."

_Head under water_

_And they tell me to breathe easy for awhile_

_The breathing gets harder._

_Even I know that._

"I hate that I have to keep asking this, but sorry for what?" Kurt blinked, looking at the similarly shocked eyes of the table around him.

"I'm sick. That's got to be a pretty crappy first kiss." Blaine's face screwed up and he glanced into the light before sneezing, as if he had to prove the point.

Kurt dropped into the booth couch, next to him, passing him a tissue. "I don't care. You deserve to be taken care of for once. God knows you've done it enough for me already."

_You made room for me. It's too soon to see_

_If I'm happy in your hands._

_I'm unusually hard to hold onto._

"You…" Blaine squeaked as his voice began to break again, and Kurt's heart jumped. This really couldn't get any worse for the boy, could it? "You remember what I told you earlier?" Blaine rubbed a hand to his throat, grimacing as the next coughing fit took hold of his chest.

"I'm sorry, Blaine. That wasn't fair on you." Blaine was always talking about how he always messed things up, but Kurt was honestly struggling to see how he was doing any better. Once again, he'd let his emotions get in the way. What was better? Hiding everything, locking everything away, so deep that it was hidden from yourself? Or letting your emotions dictate your every move? Both definitely had the potential to end in disaster, be it a personal breakdown or simply an inability to function rationally, to connect with people in the usual fashion. "I know what you said, everything you've said, and instead I got carried away in the moment. I'm sorry." Kurt blinked, feeling hot tears begin to rise, threatening to spill over.

But Blaine's hand simply moved on top of his and gave it a squeeze, a warm smile appearing on Blaine's lips. "It's okay."

_Blank stares at blank pages._

_No easy way to say this._

_You mean well_

_But you make this hard on me._

Jeff suddenly jumped up, pulling Nick along with him. "Come on, let's dance!"

Similarly, David ran over to the table, waving Sophie (the gavel to be used when the head council member, whoever he should be at the present time, was incapacitated in the form of injury or illness, according to Section 11. of The Warbler Hand-Guide). Wes grinned, shaking his head, but forced himself slowly to his feet and allowed David to drag him onto the dancefloor, stifling a sneeze into the crook of his elbow as he melted away, singing softly with the combined choir.

Kurt grinned, one hand lacing with Blaine's, one hand rubbing his back. "So… now that we have this empty booth…" the counter-tenor stopped rubbing Blaine's back, shifting closer to him while trailing his now free hand up around his chest to cup his jaw, eyes meeting, mouths mere inches apart. "Can I do this again?"

_I'm not gonna write you a love song_

_Cos you asked for it,_

_Cos you need one, you see._

_I'm not gonna write you a love song_

_Cos you tell me it's_

_Make or breaking this_

_And you're on your way._

Blaine shook his head as he slowly regained his breath. "Kurt…" he breathed, tilting his head so their foreheads were pressed together, like they were trying to pass thoughts through their skin, holding an unspoken conversation.

"That's my name." He giggled, running his fingers across Blaine's clammy cheeks.

"You're trouble." Blaine blinked, slightly cross-eyed as his eyes traced the rings and flecks of gold in Kurt's.

"I thought you said I was Kurt?" He rubbed noses with the boy – a proper Eskimo kiss. "Make up your mind!"

Blaine coughed a laugh, finally breaking eye contact. He raised a jittery hand – though from nerves or illness, he couldn't tell – stroking Kurt's hair once before trying to stabilise his own head. "You be whoever the hell you want to be, and don't let anyone tell you anything else."

_I'm not gonna write you to stay._

_If all you have is leaving,_

_I'mma need a better reason_

_To write you a love song_

_Today._

Blaine suddenly jumped to his feet, knees buckling so he nearly fell back into Kurt. "I need out."

Kurt was an instant behind him, chest pressed into the boy to support him while he fumbled with the door handle. He could feel Blaine jolt every few seconds as he began to hiccup, each expulsion of air sending a new shot of adrenaline coursing through him. "Hang on, Blaine, nearly there."

Finally there was a rush of air as the door, aided by a gust of wind, blew open, and they both staggered outside, Kurt the only thing anchoring Blaine's feet and feet alone to the ground.

_Promise me_

_That you'll leave the light on_

_To help me see_

_The daylight, my guide gone_

_Cos I believe there's a way you can love me because I say…_

Well, it was definitely snowing outside.

That was Kurt's next thought as he suddenly found himself back by the gutter, hands pulling at Blaine's hips, not wanting to let him fall into the slush lying semi-melted on the footpath.

"Really, Blaine? You had a perfect shot at my shoes there, and you aim for the road? What did it ever do to you?"

"I'm feeding it." Blaine spun himself round as he wiped his mouth, clutching at Kurt's collar as he tried feebly to remain on his feet. "Hey, it's snowing!"

A bubble of laughter burst from Kurt's lips as he shook his head, deciding to humour the boy. "Yep, it sure is."

"It's so pretty…" Blaine breathed, trying to catch the falling flakes, and Kurt was, not for the first time, reminded of a puppy, tongue hanging out and softly panting. "Just like you."

"It's all cold and dry and powdery and sticky too." Kurt smiled, wrapping his arms around Blaine's neck. "Just in case you wanted a few more adjectives that really do not fit my demeanour."

"Oh, I don't know, you're pretty sticky." Blaine swallowed, finally deciding his mouth was full enough of the crisp ice flakes. "You're like superglue. Or maybe you're a metal…" He stopped, shaking his head. "I don't know if I just screwed up a horrendous pick-up line or an Elvis lyric…" He smiled. "I'm going to stop talking now."

"Well, aren't you just adorable." Foreheads pressed together, Kurt absorbed some of the billowing heat, listening to the echoes of Tina singing and playing inside.

_I won't write you a love song_

_Cos you asked for it,_

_Cos you need one, you see._

_I'm not gonna write you a love song_

_Cos you tell me it's_

_Make or breaking this._

_Is that why you wanted a love song?_

_Cos you asked for it?_

_Cos you need one? You see…_

Kurt felt Blaine shivering and pressed the feverish boy closer to him, feeling each individual muscle ripple and twitch with the waves of spasms. "Better now?"

Blaine nodded, resting his cheek against Kurt's shoulder. "I always feel good when you're around."

"Well, I guess we're just going to have to see that happens then, aren't we? I'm pretty sure Wes keeps some duct tape handy at all times." He paused, breaking into a grin. "That wasn't meant to sound that way."

"Who says I wouldn't like it?" Blaine's eyes drooped and he began slurring, starting to fall asleep despite the cold and excitement over snow in _Ohio_.

_I'm not gonna write you a love song_

_Cos you tell me it's _

_Make or breaking this_

_If you're on your way._

_I'm not gonna write you to stay._

_If your heart is nowhere in it,_

_I don't want it for a minute._

_Babe, I'll walk the seven seas when I believe that there's a reason to write you_

_A love song_

_Today._

Kurt brushed some snow from Blaine's hair and shoulders as he began sneezing in the cold. "Come on. Let's get you back inside."

And fingers laced together, huddling close with snow floating around them, they headed back into the warmth.

* * *

><p><strong>Well. Howdy, strangers!<strong>

**My apologies, of course. New York and Seattle taking up much of my time, so I haven't been able to update or reply to a heap of messages. So hopefully this works as a make-up present?**

**I would go on and on and on about New York, which really was amazing. But instead... Remember how I was getting excited about meeting Telly Leung? I can beat that. I got PULLED UP ON STAGE during Godspell... to play Pictionary... by Telly and Hunter Parrish (for all you Weeds fans).**

**Yeah. I don't know how I'm still alive either.**

**He is honestly the sweetest person though.**

**But... I have a cute American coming to see me in like 5 minutes so... I'mma run away now.**

**Thanks again to everyone! Shout-outs to xXLittle Rose AngelXx, inthelookingglass, riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795, Stranger on the Bus and jensenfan4ever, with a huge shout out to purbles33 for the lovely message! You guys know this already, but you really are amazing.**

**I don't own anything. Again. Especially not over here, despite how cheap everything is!**

**Love it? Hate it? Want me to go into Cost-Co and get lost in the packets of 10 flat-screen TV's? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	37. The New York Times' Effect on Men

**Hi Dad, hope you're having fun w Carol. Warblers stuck in Lima cos of snow, can they crash at ours?**

Kurt sighed as he locked his phone shut only to immediately drag it back out, realising he'd have to qualify it.

**Blaine's sick, so I'm going to hospital w him. Apparently it's normal though. Wes & David will control Warblers.**

They'd finally made it back inside and reclaimed a table – the occupants of the four nearest the entrance had immediately jumped up upon seeing Kurt half-dragging Blaine through the door – when Kurt had decided that in no way would he allow his friends to drive the 2 hour suicide mission back to Westerville in the intensifying storm. He was currently liaising with David, his father, Mr Schuester and Mr Pedy (and Kurt really didn't want to know or think about how either of the latter had gotten his cell number…) while approving numbers that various Warblers wanted to perform ("sure, Thad, _That's Amore_ would be perfect…", "David, I really don't think a restaurant is the appropriate setting for a rendition of _Gay Bar_, but I'd love to see more back at school…") and trying to keep Blaine awake as they waited for the ambulance to arrive.

"You're really pretty."

"What?" Kurt blinked. Blaine had been slowly deteriorating and acting drunker by the second. "Thank you?"

"So you agree? You think you're really pretty?" Blaine slung an arm around his shoulders, eyes flickering over every inch possible of Kurt.

"Oh, I don't know…" Kurt pushed him up, staring into Blaine's eyes, trying to decipher the madness flickering within his mind like a strobe light.

"You're so beautiful, like a tree… Or a high-class prostitute…"

Kurt sighed. "Remind me to slap you for that when you're better. And no, pre-emptively, you will not enjoy it."

**Blaine's sick? What happened? Take care, kiddo, make sure to keep me updated, that kid is practically family. And any friend of yours is welcome, Kurt, any time, you know that. Be careful on the road, be safe, don't eat the yellow snow, you know the drill. Carol says to get Finn to pick up his laundry from the living area first.**

**Dude, how's Blaine doing? Any luck re housing tonight? **

**Kurt, it's Will Schuester. I'm talking to Figgins, trying to arrange someone to meet you at school if you still need housing? Let me know what's happening.**

**Yo, yo, homey, sup? Seeing your little iPhone spazzing out so thought I'd add to it. MWAHAHAHAHA. Chill out, kid, let me work my magic hands as they call it in Singapore, sleeping with Schuester tonight so just let me know where to fly you to and pick y'all up. Peace out!**

Kurt couldn't decide whether to burst into fatigue-psychotic laughter or tears at the sudden influx of love from his father, David, Mr Schuester and Mr Pedy (in that order) and settled for knocking his head on the table. Where was everyone? He looked briefly around for some back up before turning back to his phone and typing out replies to everyone. He really needed Jeff or Wes, but he was pretty sure he'd seen Nick surreptitiously dragging his boyfriend into one of the curtained alcoves in the corner, and Wes was, for some unknown reason, behind the piano singing James Brown. David was too busy notifying the rest of the Warblers about the current situation, and had disappeared into the crowd anyhow…

"Hey, Kurt!" Finally, a familiar face. Sure, it may have only been Trent – sweet, puppy Trent, who couldn't quite stop himself idolising anyone who decided to talk to him – but at least now responsibility for Blaine didn't fall completely on his shoulders. And Kurt knew that Trent would do absolutely anything for Blaine – apparently he'd really helped drag the younger (yes, younger) Warbler out of his shell, made him feel appreciated, helped him find his voice… "Hi, Blaine! Are you feeling better?" The naïve optimism as well… Kurt usually found it rather strange and grating, but it was actually a refreshing change for the moment.

"I'm awesome. Just awesome, you know, man? Like the stars. Have you seen Mars lately? It's burning bright tonight, Trent. Must mean love's in the air…" Blaine slurred, rocking in Kurt's arms.

"Really? Tell me more!" Trent sat down opposite them, patting Blaine's shoulder and gazing up briefly – and Kurt felt odd. Somewhere in his stomach… Was he getting possessive? Really? "Kurt, have you actually tested him? I haven't seen Blaine like this often, but I think he's low…"

"No, man, I'm not low!" Blaine coughed, looking outraged at the mere suggestion that his blood sugar had continued dropping. "I'm higher than a zeppelin! Maybe even higher than clouds and puffins and lightbulbs!"

"Right, that's it." Kurt snapped his fingers, and the boys both turned to look at him. "Trent, pass his kit? Please?" He began rubbing one of Blaine's calloused fingertips, trying to warm it to get better blood flow, as Trent talked throughout the testing. Really, that's all he could remember from the last couple of days – Blaine being on the verge of collapsing, telling some heartbreaking stories from his past, or testing and shovelling sugar into his mouth.

The machine beeped. "65, Blaine. Sorry." Kurt cursed inwardly. It wasn't really a surprise, especially considering that everything he'd tried taking in had come back up – yet Blaine still claimed not to have gastro. Apparently vomiting was a common side effect of both the ketones and the glucagon injection from earlier. The ambulance was due any second now, and Kurt didn't want to go messing around with the medication… but how could he possibly get the boy to eat anything? His throat was obviously killing him, and the shaky breaths that no amount of time could cure suggested that the nausea still hadn't dissipated…

**Warblers are being driven to my house, David's sorting it with Pedy. How do I get Blaine to eat?**

_Man made electric light to take us out of the dark._

_Man made the boat for the water, like Noah made the a-ark._

Kurt shook his head as he sent the message to Wes, seeing him jump slightly as his pocket vibrated. At least, he hoped it was the shock of the text that caused the boy to stumble. Pretty difficult to do while singing – Kurt didn't think he'd ever heard a stutter while sung, not even from Tina (ignoring the fact that it wasn't real, of course…) and especially not from a performer as well-polished and -rehearsed as Wes… But he threw those thoughts aside as Blaine sneezed, over and over again, body snapping forward until he was bent at the waist.

"_Eshoo! Eshoo! Eh… Eshoo_!"

"Bless you! Bless you! Bless you!"

"_Eshoo_! Don… don't… _Eshoo!_ Don't bless me every… _ESHOO!_ every time I sn… sn.. _Eshoo!_ sneeze, you'll lose your… _eshoo! Eshoo!_ your voice. _ESHOO!_"

"12… 13… 14…" Kurt tried to smile at Blaine, but he could only find himself worrying, wondering just how long it would be before the boy finally got a break and could take in a proper breath again.

"_Eh… eh…. Eh_?" Blaine's face contorted as his breathing continued to hitch, eyes fluttering as he tried to unstick his sneeze.

Trent smiled, feeling a stab of pity for his mentor. He held out a cupped palm full of ground pepper, and waved it by Blaine's face. And the fit recommenced.

"_ESHOO!_" The sneeze thrust Blaine forward so fast his head banged on the table and he lay there, panting heavily.

"Gosh, Blaine! Bless you! Are you okay?" Trent held out a pale blue handkerchief as the fit finally subsided.

Blaine looked up, red eyes streaming and sniffled miserably as he accepted the cloth. "Ndot mby worst fit ever," he squeaked. "Thandks." He coughed, a dry, barking cough sounding like a dying seal before groaning and curling into a ball. "Kurt, please. Let mbe sleep. Mby head add tumby really hurt, add I feel really icky…"

The boys winced at the magnified congestion in the sophomore's broken voice. "Look, the ambulance should be here really soon, but I can't leave it up to them." Kurt trailed a hand down the length of Blaine's spine, running it back up and into his hair, trying to suck out the pain and illness with his fingertips. "Will you have some jelly beans? Coke? Lemonade?"

"Ndo." The booth shook as the next set of rigors took hold of Blaine's body. "I wadda die."

**David, need help, how do I get sugar into him?**

"Trent, any ideas?" The boy shook his head, smile long-faded into terrified concern.

**Jeff, Nick, so sorry, need help, Blaine's gone low and is in foetal position.**

_Man thinks about little baby girls and baby boys._

_Man makes them happy cos man makes them toys._

Wes was still performing… Kurt had no idea how long he had, what he could possibly do to help, but he knew he couldn't just leave Blaine in that state, even with an ambulance only a few short minutes away.

**Kurt. Use your head. Finishing up me root beer ;-) so I'll be there asap. Nick says to remind you to breathe.**

Finally, Kurt's phone buzzed with Jeff's response. He stared at it for a minute. Use his head… his head… Then he got an idea.

"Trent. Throw me the glucose tablets."

Kurt dropped onto the floor, sliding under the table as he popped out a couple of pills, placing them to the side of his mouth. "Blaine, honey, look at me." Ooooh, the slip up… Ah, screw it, he's too ill to care. "I know you feel sick, so here's something to make it better." He gazed up into those hazel eyes, the ones that usually lit up a room just by looking at it, that now had that wooden look to them, like something inside the person had died. Slowly he moved, pressing his lips against Blaine's partially open mouth before slipping his tongue – and the tablets – into it. He pulled away quickly, not wanting to deprive Blaine of the little oxygen he could get with those rapid, shallow breaths, holding his chin to try to stop the sugar being spat back out.

"That's it, Blaine! Swallow!" Trent appeared under the table, faltering under Kurt's fiery glare. "Oh, come on, don't pretend like you don't want to say those words to him yourself. I'm not going to get the chance under proper circumstances." He turned beet red as the impact of his words started to set in. "Oh, God, Kurt. I'm sorry. I just… yeah. He's yours. Blaine's helped me more than you can imagine, so of course I might, you know… But that's all he'll ever be. A mentor. With you, it's different. I can feel it."

Kurt gave a wavery smile. "Sorry, Trent. You're an amazing kid, you know that right?" He patted him on the shoulder, but his eyes never left Blaine's face, which had now taken on a shocked expression – but he was chewing, slowly, blushing with his parted mouth and the tiny flicker that had relit itself in his eyes.

"What exactly are we doing under the table?" The Aussie accent floated through the air before being joined by the crimson, slightly out-of-breath faces of Jeff and Nick.

"Are the aliens finally invading?" Nick plopped cross-legged on the floor, pulling Jeff onto his lap.

"Well, we're certainly not having a 'root beer semi-colon hyphen right parenthesis'," Kurt said teasingly, as Jeff's face in particular turned an even deeper shade of red and Nick scrunched up his nose in embarassment.

"Watch your mouth! Trent's here. We have to protect his innocence!"

"Oh, honey, I'm as innocent as a nun doing squats in a cucumber field." Trent was the first to crack at his own joke, but the whole group, even Blaine, followed suit.

But the laughter died almost as soon as it had started, as Blaine's throat gave out and he succumbed to a fit of coughing that left him red in the face and gasping for air.

"Jesus, Blaine! Die quietly, would you?" They heard the concern in David's voice as he too approached the table. But unlike the others, his face did not appear underneath it – instead they heard him gasp. "Wes…"

_He's lost in the wilderness._

_He's lost in… in… in…_

The boys scrambled out as they heard Wes' pitch begin to fail, before he started tripping over his song again, swaying where he sat. Kurt looked up at the stage just in time to see the eyes of their head council member roll back in their sockets and he crashed heavily off the stool onto the floor.

"Wes!"

* * *

><p><strong>Dum dum Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah...<strong>

**Yep. Traditional Steph-cliff-hanger-esque action :P**

**HI EVERYONE!**

**So I'm back home and back to reality... America was wonderful. I also got to spend a couple of days in Northern California - I did Sacramento and San Francisco, as well as New York and Seattle. I walked the Golden Gate bridge, climbed the Empire State building, ate clam chowder and fondue, smelt a skunk, played Pictionary with a live Broadway audience on stage... I saw Alan Rickman, Darren Criss, Hunter Parrish and Telly Leung... I met a very cute American who I'm still in touch with... Yeah, that's basically my whole trip :P Oh! And I bought 4 pounds of Red Vines... *sheepish grin***

**Sorry for abandoning you guys! But it got too difficult to write, with everything going on... But I'm back home now, and I've got a couple of weeks before uni starts again, so I'll try and do as much as I can. I'll post the prologue to the sequel to this soon for you too.**

**So I hope this chapter makes up for the ridiculous amount of time it's been between updates?**

**Thanks again to my lovely lovely people who read, subscribe, favourite and review! You guys are amazing! Plus... I'm over 200 reviews! Fudgecakes all around! Shout-outs (and extra fudgecakes and Red Vines) to riker-rocky-ross-lynchlover795, jensenfan4ever, xXLittle Rose AngelXx, kaylastargirl and Different Child!**

**Ugh. I'm still jetlagged. I feel like there's more I should say but I can't think of anything for the minute...**

**Love it? Hate it? Want me to eat an arsenic-flavoured Bertie Botts bean? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	38. So Many Light Years To Go

"Wes! Let me through!" David and Jeff hurtled their way up to the stage while the rest of the restaurant fell to dead silence, staring at the piano where their leader had sat only moments before.

"Nick, call 911 and let them know what happened – we might not need another car but he needs to get checked out." Jeff called back to the table – was it really only a few yards away? It seemed so much further, like each step towards the senior was getting smaller and harder. "Wes? Can you hear me? Open your eyes for me, mate." All those years of first aid training, no matter how out of practise he was, began to kick in as Jeff's face set to stone, realising that he would have to take charge now, without Wes, their resident doctor, to fall back on. "What day is it, Wes? Can you squeeze my hands?" He'd dropped down beside the boy finally, pushing a fist against the back of both of Wes' hands, but nothing happened. "David, I know it's hard but I need you up here."

David blinked and tried to breathe, watching Jeff run his hands along Wes' head and back, checking his hands after each section, checking for blood, it looked like. He didn't want to look at Wes. His face, okay, that he could do – he looked peaceful, mouth drooping open and eyes gently shut. He was sleeping, all the stress from God knows when having fallen out with the collapse. His right arm was okay, just lying across his chest, slowly moving whenever he breathed – and David could see that Wes was breathing, which was somewhat reassuring. But his legs were in the air hanging off the piano stool, and he was partly lying on his left arm, which had twisted a bit on the ground – not like a terrifying, back-broken sort of twist, but it really didn't look comfortable…

"His pulse seems fine, and he's breathing well, as far as I can tell. Far out. What the hell happened?" Jeff brushed away a few wisps of hair that were plastered to Wes' forehead. "What I'd give for a pen-light… David, we're going to roll him, can you lie his legs flat?" Right, so, no pen light so can't check reactivity to light… pain… what to do about pain… That shoulder didn't look good, Jeff didn't want to go anywhere near it, and he hadn't been taught how to do a proper sternum rub… "Someone, chuck us a pen?"

David kicked the stool out of the way, catching Wes' legs and lowering them gently to the ground, lying them straight, trying not to move the boy at all. It was funny. He'd seen Blaine semi- or full-on collapsed so many times that he rarely batted an eyelid. But now that it was his best friend – his strong, invincible, relatively _healthy_ best friend – who was on the ground, all David could hear was his heart pounding in his head, feeling dizzy as he tried desperately not to succumb to panic. Panicking wouldn't help anyone.

"David, do you have Elsie? The handle might just be thin enough…"Jeff held out a hand as David fumbled through his pockets, his other pushing Wes' right arm off his chest and lying it flat on the ground, at a 90˚ angle to his body. He felt the thin wood of the miniature gavel hit his palm and quickly pressed it hard into Wes' cuticle, watching as the boy flinched away and gave a small moan of pain. But as much as he hated to do that, it was reassuring that there was some small reaction – he wasn't comatose, at the very least. "Ta. David, come up next to me, and bend his left leg up, okay? You know how we've rolled Blaine? We'll do the same thing here."

"But… his arm…" David bent the leg up as commanded, then shifted to cover more of Wes' back, watching Jeff re-tilt Wes' head back.

"I'm aware, David, it's okay. We'll have to really support his back here, make sure the position doesn't move. I mean, he only fell a couple of feet, but I'm super-cautious anyway, always have been." Wes moaned again and Jeff looked down, waiting – but his lids still remained closed, eyelashes flickering as his eyes darted under the folden skin – like he was in REM sleep. "Alright, on three…

"One…" David put one hand on Wes' bent knee and one on his stomach, trying not to think who it was on the floor. Of course, their typical first aider would have to wear himself to the bone…

"Two…" Jeff slid a hand under Wes' neck, keeping a support there. Usually he'd have someone else holding his head, but his gut told him this would be unnecessary – it was only a 2 foot fall. Jeff was much more concerned about the left shoulder. His other hand moved to press Wes' left arm against his body, trying not to strain the joint any more than it already had been.

"Three." As the Australian completed the command, the boys began rolling Wes to the side slowly, both going up on the knees and walking behind him, keeping his back as straight and supported as possible. Once he was tipped, David secured his leg and shifted his right arm while Jeff performed the same checks again – clear airway and breathing, no visible blood or fluids… So far, so good.

Then Wes groaned and his eyes fluttered open. "David? Jeff? What… What happened?" He coughed, right arm slowly moving to cover his mouth. "Ow… Why am I lying down?"

"Ambulance should be here in 10, guys." Nick placed a glass of water by the piano as he jumped up on stage as well, casting worried glances back to the table.

"You fainted, Wes. Can you tell me what hurts?" Jeff crouched down beside him, smiling as he felt Nick's comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I fell off a chair. Everything hurts." Tears sprung to his eyes as Wes pushed himself to a sitting position. "My shoulder's really bad, it doesn't feel right. It's too loose." He clutched his upper arm close to his body, cradling it as he began to rock, hand lying limp in his lap. "Can I come down from the stage now?"

"You'll tell us if you're going to collapse again?" David crouched by Wes' side, trying to coax his good arm around his shoulder. Wes nodded his assent once, hissing in pain. "Then we'll sit you by Blaine. The ambulance can take you with him."

"No, I don't need an ambulance…" But Wes knew he was lying to himself as much as anyone that cared to listen. "How… how is he doing anyway?" He closed his eyes, biting his bottom lip as he slowly stepped down and stumbled to his seat, trying to find something to focus on, to cut through the haze of stabbing pain.

"Nick, can you go talk to the staff for me and see if they have any triangular bandages?" The brunette nodded and hurried off, and Jeff turned to Wes. "Kurt got some sugar into him. They're both doing really well, Wes, you'd be proud of Kurt." They finally reached the table and Wes collapsed into the nearest seat, breathing heavily and face drained of colour from the effort.

"Wes?"

"Blaine?"

"Are you okay?" They both asked at the same time, then smiled.

"I think my shoulder's dislocated." Wes told him truthfully, before breaking into a wide smile. "I can't believe this. Only the Warblers could turn a simple performance into such a melodrama! See, Kurt, why I argued against the external performances?"

Kurt smiled. "Yeah. I never thought I'd be able to call having cats thrown at me a calm performance…" His voice dropped as he watched Wes' face start to distort.

"Crap." The Asian scrunched his nose, clutching his arm tighter. "I have to… to sn… sneeze… _Heh'kishh!_ Owwww." A tear rolled down his nose. "Fuck. That really hurt."

David rubbed his back, watching his two best friends – one of them curled into a ball on Kurt's lap, coughing and spluttering, the other visibly in pain with an arm that barely looked attached. When would that ambulance finally arrive? Both again looked on the verge of passing out.

Thankfully Nick hurried back to them at that point, handing Jeff the cloth as he pressed a quick kiss on his cheek. Jeff turned to look at Wes, wondering how best to make a sling… A collar-and-cuff would probably put too much pressure on the joint, gravity would force the arm down… Maybe a St John? "Wes, I'm not entirely sure which sling to do, so you tell me if it's more comfortable or worse, okay?" It took a couple of tries, but finally they settled with a simple large arm sling, with David's jumper tying his upper arm to his chest. It would do for the last few remaining minutes before medical intervention arrived.

"So, everyone's staying at Kurt's?" Wes' breathing was laboured but he forced himself to keep control. "Kurt, are you supervising them or coming with us?"

Kurt's arms instinctively tightened around Blaine. "David, you can keep them from destroying the house for one night, right? We have a PlayStation and way too many horror films…"

David nodded. "Of course."

"Right. Well." Wes clenched and unclenched his fist, the muscles on his jaw trembling from the effort of simply talking. "Once I'm taken care of… and I think I'll be staying the night, the snow is crazy… Ow… We can organise getting back." He let out a small whimper of pain as he sat back in the booth, the shock from his right arm hitting the cushion travelling around to the other side and jarring the shoulder. "Has the school been notified?"

Kurt frowned. "Pedy knows. He said he'd take care of it. But I just thought… Blaine's family… insurance… Should we call someone?"

As blue and red flashing lights finally appeared in the street, sweeping across the windows in the front of the restaurant, Wes shook his head. "No. Didn't he tell you? Blaine's emancipated."

* * *

><p><strong>Wes wakes up and craziness ensues...<strong>

**So. You just learnt how to put someone in the recovery position. Just don't do a Jeff - if you ever have to do it to someone, make sure that their head is supported - pretend like you're holding a pistol with both hands and grip their head on both sides and roll with them. It was really strange trying to word what was happening - I've been trained to take obs (primary and secondary, plus all the DRAB) in about 30 seconds, and recovery position is second nature to me now. I had to picture myself doing it so many times before I could write it!**

**The shoulder is another interesting thing. I've treated a couple of dislocated shoulders before, each using a dislocated sling. It's actually pretty hard sometimes to make a sling, especially if it's a typical anterior subluxation, because it gets locked. But both times I did it, I used a (modified) large arm sling, because that's what they found most comfortable - it may not be what's taught, and I've copped a bit for it, but that's what worked. My aim with first aid is whatever's best for the patient, whatever makes them the most comfortable, rather than going completely by the guidelines... **

**Also, I'm going by Australian first aid. Things may be taught differently in whatever country you're from.**

**But yay for no dying! And finally the paramedics rocking up!**

**Okay. I'm tired. I'll be quick and less rambly.**

**Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who reads, favourites, subscribes and especially reviews! Huge shout-outs to jensenfan4ever, Gracieling, Stranger on the Bus, xXLittle Rose AngelXx and Different Child! Love ya! I really couldn't do this without you all!**

**Love it? Hate it? Want me to be arrested for crimes against humanity, on account of the ridiculous number of dead baby jokes I've been telling people lately? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	39. But the Levee Was Dry

Wes moaned, slipping rapidly down the leather seat as he began quaking. "Jeff…"

The blonde, who was already in motion to greet the paramedics, whipped round as he heard the pitiful cry, watching Wes' face transition from the bright red of intense pain to pale grey to a nasty looking green. "Hang on, Wes, we'll get you out soon." He picked up Blaine's (thankfully unused) plastic container, sliding it along the table. "You're starting to go into shock. But the ambos are just outside, so don't worry – they'll look after you both." He glanced down at Blaine, who was rocking in Kurt's arms, the pair of them now talking quietly. "They'll want a BSL, you may as well start taking one." He stepped towards the door, then turned back one final time. "Nick, David, keep talking to Wes and start rounding up the Warblers. Once these guys are in the van, I'm happy to let them know everything. And you may as well call Kurt's brother and let him know we'll be leaving really soon." Then, ignoring the horrible sound of Wes gagging, he ran to the front door.

This was crazy. Back home, Jeff volunteered with a first aid company for a couple of years – and he'd been driven enough to be sent on leadership camps and the such. So, if a stranger were to collapse on the street in front of him, he could get through to complete a secondary set of obs in 30 seconds and be on the phone with emergency services without even batting an eyelid. But now… the only thing stopping his hands from falling off in an adrenaline-avalanche was how tightly clenched they were together.

He'd helped Wes to the best of his ability. He'd made sure Blaine was looked after. He'd organised an ambulance. Jeff was just a sophomore – he was 16 years old – and he'd taken charge of absolutely everything, with no idea how he could remember to do it all. He couldn't wait to just get back to Kurt's house and crash, Nick's arms wrapped around him…

"Hi. My name's Stephen, and this is Lauren. We got a call about a couple of boys here…"

"Jeff Sterling." He smiled at the officers, relief finally starting to wash over him. "They're through here."

"Can you tell us what happened, Jeff?" Lauren put a hand on his shoulder briefly as they shrugged on various medical kits and dragged out a stretcher before following him inside.

"Right, two casualties, most critical is probably…" Jeff began spieling off information, hating himself for just how much it sounded like a regular handover. This was Wes and Blaine, for crying out loud! How could he just talk about them like they were randoms off the street?

Finally they reached the table and Nick jumped up instantly, wrapping the Australian in the hug he so desperately needed. "Thanks," he whispered, squeezing his arms. He looked at the two patients, almost proud of his work. They'd done it. They'd made it through until they got help.

"Go help Blaine. Help Blaine first." Jeff looked first to Wes, who was shaking like California, face drained of colour and hand clenched around the now-half-full container. "I'll take that green whistle, and I'll take it hard, but I'm not getting high off methoxyfluorane until I know he's taken care of." Jeff smiled – that was pretty special – Wes was in the worst pain imaginable and he still put everyone else in front of him while maintaining that ironic, intelligent sense of humour.

Blaine, meanwhile, had basically given up. He was half-sitting in Kurt's lap, fingers turning white as they gripped his hand, talking to Stephen. But he saw Jeff's eyes and gave him a tiny smile, which actually was somewhat reassuring for once. They'd had enough ambulances come and visit him. This was just another one of those times. That tiny smile they always shared. The knowledge that, even though life sucked right at that very moment, that he would get better, that life would get easier, get back to normalcy soon enough.

They stepped back a bit and watched. Watched them inject Blaine with more glucagon, preparing a drip. Watched them slip a mask over Wes' face. Watch them ask questions, use all sorts of equipment, talk to each other in medical language that even Jeff had trouble understanding.

"Who did the sling?" Lauren asked over her shoulder, hands busy with a green whistle.

"That… was Jeff…" They were shocked to hear how weak Wes' voice had gotten.

"I should have known." She winked at them before turning back to her patient. "You did good, kiddo."

"And who's been looking after you, Blaine?" Stephen and Kurt were now helping Blaine shuffle onto the stretcher.

"Everyone. K-Kurt's been amazing. Wes d-did the glucagon." Blaine's blood sugar was low. Obviously. No. Jeff didn't need to worry about that any more. Not his job any more.

"You guys have done a brilliant job." The officers both stood and turned to the door, Blaine on the stretcher and Wes being pushed by Kurt on a tiny wheelchair. "Thank you. We'll have your friends back to normal in no time!"

"Bye, Blaine! Bye, Wes! Feel better soon! Bye, Kurt!" Trent waved happily to them, before running off to find Thad.

"Thank _you_." Jeff told them, beginning to shake as he finally melted into Nick's arms.

"They'll be okay now, right?" David turned to Jeff, face pale. "The ambulance will take care of them."

"Yeah." Jeff sighed, knees buckling, forcing Nick to catch him, to hold him upright. "They're going to be okay."

* * *

><p><strong>Hey, guys? Remember me?<strong>

**Yeah... So I got back home and then life kinda happened and it's no excuse but... yeah... Too many things to organise and work out.**

**Now, you might hate me for not putting Kurt's reaction in. This is one of the reasons why this chapter took forever - I tried, I don't know how many times, to write for Kurt and it just wouldn't come out. I won't ignore it, but it might take a little while - or even the sequel - for it to get properly addressed. I'm sorry. But you will at least get some form of Kurt reaction in the next few chapters :-)**

**Actually, I do have a request for you. I have to organise 2 hours worth of little team games for Easter Camp. So if you guys have any ideas for games for me, I'd LOVE to hear them! Things like crab soccer, 3-legged-races, hay bale tosses, that sort of thing. Typically it's done outside, though there's usually a few indoor games as well. They usually run between 5 and 10 minutes long (I haven't decided yet... I'm organising the entire thing...) and will be played by kids from aged 11 til 17 - though we can modify them for younger/older groups. Please?**

**Oh, and guess what? Yeah, small number, BUT I just reached my 100th follower on Tumblr! *does happy dance* Which is pretty cool :D**

**And the other really important thing... Glee... So, I watched the ep. And, as someone who nearly lost someone with a belt and has been down the whole depression-self-mutilating-suicidal (though thankfully never attempting) road, it was pretty full-on. So, if you need someone to talk to - I completely understand. I know I preach this all the time, but I'm going to repeat this here. No matter what has happened to you, you DESERVE happiness. And I truly believe that you have the courage and strength to find it. But if you need help in any aspect - because, believe me, I've needed craploads! - then I am always here. For anything. Even if you just want to vent at me. You can PM me. Or you can hit up my Tumblr ask - pi-on-a-skateboard(.)tumblr(.)com But please - don't feel you have to do it alone. You are never alone. I promise you that.**

**Yep. Jumping down off my soap-box. I'm actually surprised the thing still stands, after all the abuse I've put it through recently...**

**So, thank you again to my lovely readers, subscribers, favouriters and reviewers! Thanks to all that are still with me after that hiatus... And huge shout-outs to: arii, xXLittle Rose AngelXx, jensenfan4ever, Gracieling, Different Child, annkum and Stranger on the Bus! And also to Falling(.)Through(.)Wonderland, because she really needs some loving right now :-)**

**Okay. Enough rambling. There's almost more ramble than actual chapter matter...**

**Love it? Hate it? Want everything in my fridge to be replaced with cheese so I am trapped infinitely in crazy cheese dreams? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	40. Like A Wheel, Gonna Spin It

"You were emancipated?" Kurt's blue eyes sought Blaine's hazel, shock fighting to transfer itself to the deadened apathy filling the bloodshot eyes.

Blaine pursed his lips, but nodded once. "Yes," he simply whispered, grasping Kurt's warm arms, clutching them, fighting not to fall back further, to feel even more sorry for himself. "But can we not go through this now?" He forced himself not to break contact with Kurt, not to look away. Kurt needed to see the pain there – he couldn't lie to him, not about this. "My throat's killing me," he finished lamely.

Kurt nodded, understanding. "It's okay, Blaine. It's okay. The ambulance is coming."

"You won't leave me?" Blaine had done pretty well, but now he was scared. It wasn't just being sick – he got colds and tonsillitis all the time, part of life as a singer. He knew what to do, how to handle that. But tonight… He was in the middle of nowhere. His diabetes had been playing up like electricity in a demon attack and as for his emotions? The freaking apocalypse. Even being diabetic, Blaine could count the moments he'd feared for his life with his fingers. That time in rehearsal before everyone knew. That time when he was diagnosed. The night of the Sadie Hawkins dance. The night he'd ended up on Jeff's door, Maegan in his arms. And now, Blaine was scared. He knew his blood sugar was beginning to drop again – if not by the brain haze and numb arms then definitely by the erratic thoughts. Wes was out of the question now – he was practically passed out from pain, despite David's distractions – and the glucagon wasn't working as well as it should be. He thought, anyway. And he was just so _tired_. He didn't want to eat. He wanted to sleep, to conserve energy. But if he slept… would he wake up again?

"Blaine, sweetie, Lady Gaga announcing 80% off Marc Jacobs couldn't keep me from you right now." He lay Blaine down on the booth bench, rolling himself in behind, not caring for whoever was around that could possibly take offence – that thought didn't even knock on the door of his mind. He pulled Blaine close, skin to skin, like a child protecting their teddy bear after a horrid nightmare. "In fact, a hundred men or more couldn't ever do it."

Blaine smiled. "You speak Toto."

"You understand Toto," Kurt quickly replied with a grin. "Weren't you going to be singing _Hold the Line_ tonight?"

A tiny nod. "Well, someone has to educate them in the wonders of the late 70's. If not me, then who?" Kurt snorted. "Y-Y-You know, _Love is the Drug_ m-makes me want to go back – "

"To the 70's and high-five Brian Ferry." Kurt finished, not knowing whether to be amused or disown the boy. "You've told me."

"H-Hey, Kurt?" Blaine rolled his head over, seeking that blue warmth again. "I… I, er… I love you."

Kurt swallowed. "No. Don't you go saying that."

… Okay, that wasn't the reaction he was expecting. Actually, Blaine didn't really know what sort of reaction he wanted. Not that… His bottom lip began to quiver. "You don't love me too?"

"Of _course_ I do, Blaine, more than you know it." He sighed. "But first of all, you're scared so the words don't mean a lot. Secondly, you do sort of just claim that." Damn. Why bring up Jeremiah? Well done, Kurt, well done. "But, most importantly – Jeff's gone to meet the paramedics. You are NOT giving up on me, do you hear me?" He smiled though. "Also, I'm very important. I have many leather-bound books and my apartment smells of rich mahogany. As soon as you're better, I'm expecting to be wooed, Mr Anderson."

"Leather. Wooing. Got it." Blaine turned back around, sneezing, before nuzzling back against Kurt's chest. "Anything else I can do to make up for this?"

"Peanut butter cups always go down well."

A throat cleared itself and the boys looked up, both blushing. A paramedic was standing over them, hand outstretched, while another was next to Wes. "Hi guys, I'm Stephen. Pleasure to meet ye. Now, we've had so many calls tonight me memory's a tad off – would ye mind tellin me what's wrong with ye tonight?"

Kurt giggled as Blaine hurriedly forced himself to sit back up again. "I'm diabetic."

"Nice to meet you, Diabetic."

Blaine smiled. "My name's Blaine."

"I thought ye said it was Diabetic? Y'Americans. Ye can never make up yer minds, can ye?"

The female paramedic turned around and hit him. "Stephen. Behave."

"Right ye are, young lass." He turned back to face Kurt and Blaine, a sheepish smile on his face. "My apologies. Now, what seems t'be the problem?"

Blaine shivered, drawing Kurt closer, pulling in his strength, and Kurt finally let his mind wander. To try to even begin taking in what had happened. Blaine had said he loved him. Blaine had nearly died. Wes had passed out. He was going to be in an ambulance. With his… not-quite-boyfriend, one of his best friends, and a Scottish (or was it Irish? Kurt wasn't quite sure…) paramedic. He half-watched as they drew up more glucagon for Blaine, discussed ideas as for why his sugars were still dropping, took another BSL. He was half-asleep as he helped Blaine lie down on the stretcher, began pushing Wes on the wheelchair out to the van. And suddenly he was standing by the cold metal doors, his friends staring at him from the inside of the van, his arms crossed to try to conserve warmth – and Stephen had his hand on his arm.

"Kurt, lad, I'm sorry but we canna take ye with us."

"Why." It wasn't a question. It was an order.

"Yer a minor, Kurt. I'm sorry. They won't let ye in the hospital – ye'd be in the ER waiting room the whole night and I have a moral obligation not to let that happen."

"No. I have to go. I can't leave him. I don't care." Kurt could feel his patience and self-control fraying, like an unfinished piece of knitting slipping off the needle. No. He had to be strong.

"Kurt…" The voice wavered, barely human, and he looked up to see Wes reaching out for him, battling to stay coherent. "I'm here. I won't leave him."

Blaine reached out a hand. "It's okay. Go, Kurt. Wes is probably the best thing… next to you…"

"But…" A hot tear rolled down his cheek. He looked up to Stephen. "Can I…?"

A small nod.

He ran inside, pulling both boys into a hug. "Take care of each other."

"Promise."

"You got it, Kurt. That's my job."

Stephen's hand guided him back out the truck, and Kurt glanced back, watching Blaine grip Wes' hand, wiping away a few tears with his other arm.

"I love you, Blaine."

And with that, the doors slammed shut and the ambulance started humming before turning on the lights and driving down the highway.

* * *

><p><strong>Yeah... I'm evil... We know this now.<strong>

**BUT they are in an ambulance. FINALLY. Blaine made it sooooooooooo difficult for me and just did not want to be written no matter what. Plus I've been back at uni (so I actually have to STUDY) and I'm still working and I just got involved with Compassion Alerts on Facebook which is keeping me ridiculously BUSY. Speaking of which, if you ever need some help or you want to lend a hand, compassionalert(.)tumblr(.)com is a really great place to check out. Or you can come hit up my Ask box or PM me. :-)**

**I also started posting a couple of drabbles/one-shots that I've written which you can find on my author page. And I wrote my own story through Tina's eyes, the circle they had in the latest ep, so if you're interested at all... it's there.**

**I feel like there's more I should say... I think 2-ketobutyrate formate-lyase/pyruvate formate lyase-4 has stolen all my rambling.**

**Oh! Games! For the EC cup. Thank you to EVERYONE who sent me stuff. I've ended up using games: Davy Jones' Locker (based on Giant's Treasure), Quidditch, Extreme Facebook, Angry Birds, Screw the Mayans, Spicks and Specks and The Labour Party Tango. Yep. I don't know either...**

**So. Thanks again to everyone who has read, favourited, subscribed, reviewed, etc. Shout-outs to TVCTSCHANNY, jensenfan4ever, Gracieling, xXLittle Rose AngelXx, Parmelde Lorntiere, Stranger on the Bus, Different Child and a HUGE shoutout to Falling(.)Through(.)Wonderland, who really needs some love right now. LOVE YOU.**

**Like it? Hate it? Want me to be mistaken for a codfish and served on chips? Please let me know.**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	41. Whistling Down The River

"**So, Wes is okay?**"

Blaine glanced over at the boy in the bed next to him, who was waving a hand in front of his eyes and giggling hysterically. "Yeah. He's a bit out of it – they had to put him on some pretty strong drugs to get his shoulder back in. The doctors think he just collapsed from exhaustion though – but he's under observation with me tonight anyway. And we're both on antibiotics. But he'll probably want to talk to you before he finally crashes – I don't know how he's still awake, to be honest."

"**What's he doing?**"

"Right now?" Blaine looked over, smiling. "He's now waving a pen around, trying to determine if it's solid or made of rubber."

"Blaine-y?"

Blaine stared at his friend. "What's up, Wes?"

"Blaine... What… exactly… is the point of unicorns?"

"Unicorns?" Blaine blinked. Nothing would surprise him anymore. "Why don't you tell me?"

"Okay!" Wes frowned comically in thought, the tip of his tongue poking out in concentration.

"**He's poking his tongue out, isn't he?**"

Blaine turned his attention back to the phone. "Yep."

He could hear David laughing over the other end of the line. "**Better put him on then, before he drops. You too, man – you need sleep.**"

Blaine grimaced. "The hospital's still questioning me, trying to work out what's wrong. When they're done, they'll give me nausea meds and I'll be out. But until then…" He sighed, really not want to admit to how ill he actually felt. "Yeah… I'll put Wes on."

"**Well…**" There was hesitation in David's voice, but thankfully he knew not to press the matter. "**Get better soon, man.**"

"Thanks, David." Blaine leant over to Wes, gently prising the marker – which was now covering Wes' left arm in shaky, non-dominant-hand-drawn tattoos – from his fingers and replacing it with the mobile, ruffling his hair as he did so. "Wes? It's David!"

Wes stopped whining at his now-unstyled hair and broke into a huge grin, ramming the phone to his ear. "David? David! How _are_ you, _darling_? It's simply _horrid_ here, though Blaine really is trying to make it more enjoyable."

It was around that time that Blaine lost it. Wes' _dreadful_ attempt at a British accent was hilarious enough as it was – but a nurse had chosen that moment to walk in their room and had dropped her clipboard in a scream of laughter. Apparently she'd had a really long day too.

"Would you two baboons _mind_?" Wes glared at them. "I am _trying_ to hold a proper conversation with my _dear_ friend David on this strange talking machine." He held the mobile at arms' length, frowning at it before replacing it on his ear. "Why, _thank_ you, _darling_, I did indeed forget it is called a cell-phone…"

Blaine shook his head, turning back to the nurse. Wes was _never_ going to live this down – he just hoped David had thought to turn voice-record on. "He's a happy drunk…" he tried to offer as an apology.

"No matter. At least he's still in bed. With all his clothes on." The nurse fiddled with Wes' IV – just simple fluids – before shaking Blaine's hand. "I'm Felicity, but everyone calls me Flick."

"Like in A Bug's Life?" Blaine's eyes met her bright, green ones. "That's a pretty awesome name."

"Thanks!" She flashed a very white smile. "Apparently when I was born I didn't cry – I just laughed at everyone. So they called me Felicity – apparently in Latin it means – "

"Happy or lucky." So, those few years of Latin had been good for something. Who knew?

"That's right!" She laughed, a trilling thing, that instantly brought a smile to the face of anyone within a mile radius, and Blaine couldn't help but join in.

Only then Wes started calling out. "Blaine… Blaine…" He held the phone back out, his hand trembling. "I'm going to go to sleep now. Kurt wants to talk to you."

Blaine took it quickly, watching Wes' eyes start fluttering. "Ta, Wes. Sleep well. It'll be better in the morning." He turned to the girl in front of him. "My… er… My friend. He wanted to come, but the paramedics wouldn't let him. Would you mind?"

Flick had already begun backing out the door. "Your boyfriend? Wouldn't stop you for the world. If my supervisor comes, I was never here, alright? I'll be back in five."

Blaine breathed. Finally. Before he talked to Kurt. Just one more time he had to remain strong. For Kurt. His blood sugar had come up a bit – they had him on a dextrose drip now, so there was a constant stream of sugar. They'd taken blood, started him on a course of antibiotics – because, like Wes had predicted, it was tonsillitis. But they were still at a loss as to why his sugars had been wreaking such havoc. And, even if his sugar levels were higher and he had vomited a couple of times, his ketone levels were still too high – so he was still exhausted and nauseated and just, well, icky-feeling. His head pounded with his heart. His eyes needed to sneeze. His stomach was so sore he actually thought he understood what Nick and his female friends went through.

But he couldn't admit that to Kurt. Kurt was worrying so much about him. It was bad enough that he'd collapsed, then gotten sick. But now he was in hospital, and even though the thought comforted Blaine himself – because hospitals knew how to take care of him – the knowledge that your best friend is sick enough to be in there was terrifying enough. So he had to suck it up and just pretend to be better. He'd get there in the end, anyway – but it would be best for all of them if he maybe just didn't tell the whole truth for the time being.

He rolled over in bed, bringing his knees to his chest and a hand to his stomach as he shoved the phone between his ear and the pillow. "Hey, Kurt."

An instant sigh of relief. "**Hey, Blaine.**" Kurt's voice was a lot softer, gentler. Thick with worry, but Blaine could hear the forced smile in his voice, the one to try to convince himself everything was okay. "**You feeling any better?**"

"My BSL's basically normal now," he side-stepped.

"**Oh.**" He sounded uncertain. "**That's… good…"**

Wow. Blaine had never thought that talking to Kurt could ever be this awkward. And only this week Blaine had sung to a boy in the middle of the Gap only to find out that Kurt liked him, and he quite possibly liked Kurt back…

"In all honesty, I'm pretty wrecked. I still feel sick. But I'm here now, and the hospital will take care of me." He could only hope that reassured Kurt as much as it did him.

"**You sound exhausted. I should let you sleep.**" Kurt did sound a little more at ease now. "**You… You take care. Call anytime – my cell will be on all night. And we'll call sometime in the morning to arrange picking Wes – and hopefully you – up.**"

"Thanks, Kurt." Blaine gripped the phone tighter as he began shivering. "It was great to hear your voice."

"**And yours, Blaine. Get better really soon, okay? Everyone here… well, I'd like to say they're thinking of you but I think most of them are focused on Thad and Niff's poker game.**"

Blaine couldn't help but smile, though his lips remained tightly pursed, teeth clenched as the next fever flush started fully taking hold. "Thad will look down, Jeff will become clingier, and Nick will actually start sneezing if they're bluffing. And Jeff's accent will become stronger if he has a huge hand."

He could hear Kurt smile. "**I'll have to use that. Thanks. Now… go sleep!**"

"Yes, Mom." Blaine hung up quickly, throwing his phone on the table as he grabbed the plastic emesis bag, trying and failing to swallow back the nausea erupting in his throat. Though at least he'd hung up the phone in time – Kurt wouldn't have to listen to him retch over the line.

Flick was back at his side almost in an instant, rubbing his back as she took the full bag and handed him a purple icy-pole. "Sorry you feel so yuck. This will help get rid of the taste, and it's a nice shot of sugar – though I can grab you a Sprite if you'd prefer that?"

Blaine shook his head as he collapsed back into the pillows. "Thank you." His voice again barely raised above a whisper, and he hastily brushed a few of the tears pouring down his pale, clammy cheeks.

"I'm a doctor," the freckled girl told him with a small smile, passing him a few tissues. "If it's in the bag, and not on my shoes, then I don't have an issue." She disappeared out the door for a minute – Blaine could make our her red hair near the nurse's desk as she threw out the rubbish. Then Flick was back, grin as warm as ever as she took a seat by Blaine's bed.

"You're a doctor?" He repeated in surprise. She barely looked old enough to be out of school, let alone a university graduate.

"Well… I'm a registrar." Her eyes twinkled. "Yeah. I'm older than I look, I skipped a couple of grades, and I actually went straight from high school to Med school – I studied in Australia, where they actually still let you do that. I usually work up in endocrinology, but you've got the doctor's here all stumped. They called me because I've been living with diabetes for a good 17 years now."

"Oh." Wow. Really, Blaine? Never smooth at the best of times, but is that all? Nothing else to say?

Flick giggled. "So, Blaine. Diabetic to diabetic. Do you know your last HbA1C?"

Blaine thought back. Despite the sicknesses and the all-too-frequent hospital trips, he was actually really well-controlled. "Uh… I think it was 6.5."

"Wow! You're beating me! I'm at 6.8." She put a peanut butter cup on the table. "Guess you win this then. When you're up to eating…" She looked down at her chart. "Now, what insulin are you taking? And how much?"

"Protophane and Humalog, 30 and 15 in the morning, and 15 and 8 at night."

"Whoa, hold up there, tiger." Flick held out a hand – the stop sign. "You're on _protophane_? That's old-school, man!"

Blaine grinned. "Yeah. I'm on a waiting list for a pump, but until then… Protophane's always served me well. I don't see the point fiddling around with Lantus if I'm getting a pump in a few months anyway."

"Fair enough, fair enough…" She frowned. "Your A1C is fine… Dosage sounds okay; perhaps a little low but I take it you're fairly active?"

Blaine nodded. Singing 3 times a week, plus swimming, fencing and kicking a footy around with Jeff usually counted as heavy exercise – not to mention the stairs hidden all over the school.

"Have you got the bottles with you?" He could tell Flick was running out of ideas now. "Sometimes if it's past the use-by date, the effect can be a little odd. I've never heard of someone running low from old insulin before, but who knows?"

Blaine pointed to his bag at the end of his bed, the black kit poking out. Flick pulled it out and began examining the cloudy and clear bottles – though both were in date, and Blaine had only started them a week ago. But then she pulled out the syringes.

"Blaine… didn't you say you were on 15 and 8 at night?"

Blaine nodded, frowning.

"So why do you have 100 unit syringes?"

Hang on. That was strange. Blaine used 50 unit ones, both morning and night. The 100 unit ones… they counted in 2's. Which didn't work too well if you had to draw up odd numbers… Things slowly started clicking into place. The bag of syringes had been opened that morning… He must have…

"You double-dosed, didn't you?" Flick gave him a small smile. "It's such an easy mistake to make. Back in the day when I was injecting, I did the same thing a couple of times."

It made sense. It actually made sense. Blaine was actually glad – grateful – that he was sick. Because being sick would have pushed his blood sugar up, so the effect of the overdose wasn't as bad. He got better at the end of the day – as the protophane wore off – before crashing as the extra Humalog kicked in. And the stress of performing, and the lack of food as the night wore on, plus the ketones and vomiting, making it worse… It all made sense…

"Right. Well." Flick stood up, packing the kit up before pulling out some of her own drugs. "We'll keep you a couple of days of observation, just to be on the safe side, and tomorrow we'll get you in a ward. But you look exhausted, and I think we've got it sorted for now, don't we?"

Blaine nodded, his eyes already feeling heavy. He lowered the bed back down so it was flat.

Flick came over, pushing the syringe into the cannula. "I've got some Maxalon here – it will stop you up-chucking, but it's definitely going to knock you out. So just try and get some rest. We'll look after you. You'll be fine, Blaine."

The drugs had barely been injected when his stomach began to settle. He immediately rolled to his side, clutching a pillow to his chest, looking at Wes and Flick as the lights in his room were turned off. "Thank you."

"My pleasure, hon. Get some sleep and I'll see you in a few hours." And, the sounds of alarms beeping and people walking outside, Blaine's arms, each weighing a tonne, started to go warm and tingly. He was asleep before the doctor had even left the room.

* * *

><p><strong>Hi guys!<strong>

**So it's 3 in the morning and I've gotta be up for uni in close to 4 so I'm not going to ramble mindlessly like I usually do because I'm even too tired for that.**

**Apologies if it's not Americanised... I couldn't be bothered to check whether you call it Maxalon or not. Um... I haven't injected for about 5 years now, so I don't remember rates - I think I might have underestimated Blaine's but... meh. And, um, something else... Ah. HbA1C's are basically an average of BSLs for 3 months. Diabetics are meant to be below 7, non-diabetic level is typically below 6.**

**Thank you so much to everyone who has read, favourited, subscribed and reviewed! Special thanks to backyousorrybastards, Brook-Lucas-Fan-23, jensenfan4ever, Stranger on the Bus, Different Child, and xXLittle Rose AngelXx. You guys are all wonderful and I don't think I'd still be writing this if not for you all!**

**Oh. Yes. It's dialogue heavy. My apologies.**

**Um...**

**Like it? Hate it? Want me to be adopted by a family of pigeons and trained to be all feral? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	42. Life, the Universe and Everything

"Nick… Can I please…"

"Kurt." Nick's brown eyes leapt at the quiver in the countertenor's voice. He pushed Jeff's face back up from his shoulder – "you going to be okay if I go help Kurt for 5 minutes?" – and, on a nod, he unravelled himself from Jeff's embrace and instead wrapped his arms around Kurt, pulling him aside, away from the rest of the Warblers.

"Thank you," Kurt mumbled into his neck, tears dampening his collar. "I'm sorry, I just… "

"Needed a hug?" They pulled apart, Nick's eyes glowing with warmth and compassion. "I'm no Wes or Blaine, but that's okay. They may be the resident cuddlers – but I'm the resident lullaby-singer, so I guess that's close enough?"

Kurt snorted softly as he let out a tiny smile. He was so… he didn't even know. Worried, concerned, terrified… It was all a mess. While Blaine was there, he was forced into that care-taking role. Well, not forced, as such, but with Blaine present, it was a lot easier to shove his emotions to the side, including the formidity twisting his stomach into knots, to just focus on the job at hand, to worry purely about Blaine, how he was doing, what he needed, what he could do to make his friend feel better. But now Blaine was gone… Kurt was swimming. Drowning. There was, of course, all that anxiety for both Blaine and Wes, but it was mixed in with the shock of seeing Wes let himself get that sick (and let's not get started on his shoulder) and of Blaine's hidden life, plus he'd actually _kissed_ him and told him that he _loved_ him, which really wasn't a great thing to do because the guy had supposedly been in love with someone else less than a week ago but he cared for Kurt but Kurt didn't want to let himself get involved and, God, it was just so damn confusing!

Jeff had now come up behind the pair and he grabbed Nick's hand, pulling them further away from the crowd. The Warblers were running rampart through Breadstix – with no Wes to control them, the energy from yet another amazing performance was too much, so they all figured it was best to let them at least attempt to calm down before reorganising everyone in the school bus. But what the three boys – four, if you included David, who was fighting his way through from the other side of the room – needed was a little peace and quiet where they could debrief, just talk everything out, before heading back into the fray.

Finally they'd made it to a table, Nick sliding onto Jeff's lap as David slid in beside Kurt.

"So. Kurt. Welcome to the club."

Nick snorted. "We're a club now?"

"Well…" David paused. "I want to just talk about what happened, and we always talk about Blaine after an episode… Calling it a club seems less…"

"Gay?" Kurt supplied.

"Essentially… yes." David ducked his head to avoid Kurt's hand.

"So," Jeff coughed, bringing back everyone's attention. "There's… not really a whole lot we can do or say tonight, because ultimately there's not a whole lot that we know." He blinked, burrowing his chin into Nick's shoulder. "Obviously, Blaine and Wes are both sick. But we don't know why he collapsed, or why Blaine's been running low."

Thad ran past them, screaming, "Godzilla!". Trent wasn't far behind, though he shot a "sorry, guys" over his shoulder as he sped up.

"The whole thing is strange," Nick continued, barely acknowledging the ruckus around them. "We've seen him sick before. He's always gone low, but as soon as the virus hits him he always comes up. And… I don't think there was a pattern in his symptoms…"

Kurt was deep in thought. "Wait… How often do you guys 'meet'?"

"Wes started it. After that first time he collapsed in rehearsal…" David shook his head, paling at the memory. "He thought it'd be a good idea to compare notes, things that we noticed, what we did, what happened, that sort of thing. He told us all about the glucagon then too. So we'd have a better idea what to do later on. And the more we talked about everything, the less of an impact it seemed to have… so now the four of us – five, including you now – meet every time something happens."

"And Blaine has no idea?"

Nick blushed. "He probably suspects. But he hates us looking out for him – he doesn't want to burden us, I reckon. But we always chat after he's gone to the nurse or the hospital, or fallen asleep… never when he's around."

"And last night?"

"Tea, when you dragged him upstairs," Jeff smiled. "We would have dragged you back down but… well, we figured you… er… were otherwise occupied…"

David let out a cough that sounded rather like, _spooning_.

Kurt slapped him.

"So, what's happening with you guys? Can we pour the champagne yet?" Jeff was properly grinning now as he broke into song. "_Well, this calls for a toast so pour the champagne, pour the champagne_…"

Kurt's hand flew up again, but Nick caught it. "Dude. Anger management. Seriously."

But Kurt was beaming this time. "I never thought I'd be actually _gossiping_ with you guys… but Blaine… He told me he loves me… again…"

The boys squealed. Yes, actually squealed, like a couple of fan-girls.

"And what did you tell him?"

"I… I told him I didn't want to do this when he was sick…" Kurt looked down briefly at his hands, guilt written across his face. "But… yes. I did tell him I love him."

"I AM THE BANANA KING!" This time it was Callum who came galloping through the tables, a cucumber held to his forehead. Dylan and Parker were throwing napkins at each other, vaguely chasing Callum, and Oliver, rounding up the group, decided to take refuge in Kurt's lap, his body covered in padding so that he now resembled a robot.

"Oliver… Are they…?" David failed to keep a straight face, the current interruption a little too bizarre to ignore – even for the Warblers.

"Are they _sanitary pads_?" Kurt jumped up with a scream, pure disgust plastered all over his face.

You know how sometimes you're at a disco and trying to talk to someone, and it's just as you're complaining about your explosive diarrhoea that the music decides to cut? Yeah. This was one of those times. The whole restaurant was so silent Kurt actually considered dropping his Warbler pin to see if he really could hear the proverbial sound.

But just as soon as the blanket of silence fell, it was shattered by the massive explosion of laughter ricocheting from every occupant. Kurt stared at them all – but the fatigue with the emotional cocktail and the farce of it all grew too much and he collapsed over, clutching his stomach in fits of mirth as he rolled on the ground.

He must have been hysterical though, because the next thing Kurt knew, he was sitting next to David in the Mustang, Jeff and Nick cuddling in the backseat, with no honest idea of how he'd gotten there – though at least there was a good explanation for his aching cheeks and stomach.

"You did… you did so well tonight, Kurt," Jeff suddenly spoke above the radio, breaking the almost-silence. "You kept Blaine awake, kept his sugars up, took care of him… I don't think any of us have been placed in that sort of situation cold. I mean, even I'd seen him sick before I had to help."

"Yeah, well, you all helped." Kurt blushed. "I mean… I did what I had to. But, Jeff, you were incredible."

"I'll second that!" David glanced at the blonde through the rear-view mirror. "With Wes tonight, I just… I lost it. I completely blanked. And you just knew everything. I mean, even the paramedic said you did a great job."

Now it was Jeff's turn to flush beetroot. "Nah, I've just had more training than you. But I should have held his head when we turned him, and I should have put him in the shock position as soon as we got him down and –"

But Nick's lips got in the way of any other self-criticism Jeff had, and he cupped his face gently as he pulled back. "Jeff. He's fine. You did good. Stop being so hard on yourself!"

Kurt looked out the windscreen, vaguely listening to the hushed conversation in the back, watching the snow-frosted trees rush by as they neared his house. He wondered how Blaine and Wes were going – whether they knew what was wrong yet. Why Blaine was running low. Why Wes had collapsed. How they were – were they asleep yet? Had they even been seen? Or were they just waiting for a bed? And would he be able to go visit them? And how long would they both be in there? And when was it going to stop snowing, anyway?

"Kurt?"

He shook his head, the reverie broken.

"Kurt." David tried again. "You want to talk to them?"

"Talk to whom?"

"The fairies." Jeff shook his head. "Oh… wait…"

"Racialism!" David grinned. "No. Like I was saying, once we get settled in your crib, I'm going to call Wes and Blaine to see how everything is going. So, Kurt. Would you like to speak to them?"

"Turn left here – we'll beat the bus." They were now about 5 minutes from the Hudson-Hummel's, and Kurt couldn't help but feel a little hopeful at the prospect of talking to the boys again. "Do you really need to ask me that?"

"Well, you seem a little… out of it." David frowned in concern, his hand somehow finding its way onto Kurt's forehead.

"I'm not sick!" Kurt smiled. "Just… worried, I guess."

Jeff leant forward, squeezing Kurt's shoulder. "We all are. But mate, I wouldn't stress. Blaine's… well, you know how stubborn he is. The fact we actually managed to get him to hospital – which really is the best place for him right now – is impressive."

"What… do you mean by that exactly?"

Jeff snorted. "We haven't told you the debating story yet, have we?"

* * *

><p><strong>Well, hello there, my pretties! How are we all? Thank you all SO MUCH for the response for the last chapter! I love Flick too, I promise - she will reappear, but not for a couple of chapters. :P<strong>

**So... yeah... Okay, uni is really... taking up a LOT of my time. Plus all the stuff I'm doing with Compassion Alert, plus I'm organising an Easter Camp. So it's getting really difficult for me to update as regularly as normal, and I apologise for this now. I'm not giving up on this! I just don't have nearly as much time as I'd like to dedicate to TSAB.**

**Plus, on top of the crazy writer's block that decided to attack me (hence the truly dreadful jumping around in this...) my body has decided that it wants to kill me :P Well, no, slight exaggeration, but in all honesty I think I have Blaine's bug. Only with more stomach cramping and less sneezing. So, if that's not karma for you, I don't know what is :P**

**... Or maybe this just doesn't want to be written? :P**

**Oh! You guys might appreciate this... I was at work the other night - completely new house, and I'd never been there before. I was basically doing a one-on-one with a severely autistic client. And I mean, severely autistic. If we weren't walking around the house or eating, he'd be hitting himself or banging his head on the floor or walls. Though I found that if I started singing - especially The Wheels on the Bus - he'd hurt himself with less force and less frequently. Anyway, I had to leave him with the other staff members around his bedtime to go fill out paperwork, but he refused to go to bed. We couldn't even get him to move - we were just sitting next to him with a pillow so he'd hit that instead. So I start singing, and eventually I get him into his room at around 2100. And as soon as I started singing Cough Syrup, he climbed into bed with virtually no prompting and basically went straight to sleep. Awwwwwwwwwww. Such a darling. Apparently no one at the house had tried using music before - which to me just seems bizarre, though I guess I've always used music of some form to help me with tricky clients, or even just with my own emotions. Apparently it's pretty effective though :P**

**And then I worked at an old house, really close to mine - it's one of my favourites - and 3 of the clients came running for a hug when they saw me. And one of them refused to have a shower with all of the permanent staff - but as soon as I was around he came straight up to me and asked me to shower him. And the same thing happened with going to bed. It's just... my heart still melts thinking about it :P My clients are just... the loveliest people. Treat them well, like normal human beings, and they'll do the same for you - only they actually appreciate it! :P**

**Um... yes. The debating story. This is... a mash-up of two of my own stories, so I'm pretty good with what I'm going to write in it. I can't promise when it's getting uploaded - I have a mid-semester test on Wednesday so I'm going slightly nuts studying for it... But _hopefully_ it shouldn't take me overly long... Before Easter, I can promise you that! :P**

**So are we calling this a filler? I guess we are. Here. The chapter of the answer to life, the universe and everything, is a filler. I can hear Douglas Adams screaming from his grave. Poor bugger.**

**Though, you know what? I think he's just too busy missing the ground. So he must be having the time of his life. Either that, or he's busy talking to Deep Thought. I'm not sure. I'll have to find me some mice and get back to you on that.**

**... Right.**

**Thanks to everyone again who has read, reviewed, subscribed, favourited, etc etc. Actually, I'm not entirely sure what is covered by those ceterae, but no matter, no matter. Shout outs to jensenfan4ever, Different Child, annkum, Brook-Lucas-Fan-23, triedtolie, xXLittle Rose AngelXx, Stranger on the Bus, inthelookingglass, backyousorrybastards and Gracieling! And a special shout out to KjAnDcooL :D**

**Like it? Hate it? Want me to be hypnotised so that I believe I am a squirrel and it is my life's purpose to collect nuts, so I get diagnosed with some sort of sex addiction and rehypnotised, only this time I believe that I am a hyperintelligent shade of blue? Please let me know!**

**(Oh God. I'm sorry. Blame the TERRIBLE crudeness on the illness :P)**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	43. I'm Not Sick But I'm Not Well

****** Please read the asterisked bit down the bottom. Even if you don't read the whole note. Fudgecakes and rainbows for those who do! ******

* * *

><p>"Let me guess," Kurt began, the sarcasm from his words seeping like honey into his smile. "Blaine went low and did something crazy, you guys force-fed or injected him and called the nurse, and here we are today."<p>

Jeff chuckled. "Not exactly…"

* * *

><p>"<em>That's so… so…"<em>

"_So Raven?" Jeff offered innocently, pinning Thad's wrists to his sides to stop the pencil case of the fuming boy making its maiden voyage through the air towards Blaine's nose._

_It did nothing to calm him down though. "Wrong. Sexist. Racialist," Thad spat, face turning red as he squirmed in Jeff's grip. "LET ME GO!" He glared at the offending board, where their debating topic was pinned – pulling a face actually worthy of Kurt, the master, himself._

"_Mate, we're wasting time. We only have an hour to prepare."_

"_I refuse! I can't debate that! That they even suggested it… It's so… am I allowed to call it heteronormative?"_

_Blaine burst into laughter. "I don't quite think that's the word you're looking for, Thad. Chill out. It's just a bit of harmless fun. Think how hard it's gonna be for Crawford County!"_

_That was true. As part of their interschool debating, one month was always a secret topic – and usually a bit of a joke. This year – and Jeff didn't know whether he wanted to shoot Wes and Mr Valladares or hug them for actually proposing it – their topic was, "_That a woman's place is in the kitchen_". The Dalton boys were negative. Meaning that the Crawford girls would therefore be arguing that women _should_ belong in the kitchen. Which would be… interesting…_

* * *

><p>"Are you <em>serious<em>?" Kurt was already laughing. "What was Thad's problem, exactly? If Crawford were affirmative, the _girls_ were the ones arguing the wrong side. You guys got to be feminists!"

"Thad? Feminism?"

They all burst into laughter at the thought.

"We'd all been having a rough week. He just needed to let off some steam, I think…" Jeff grinned. "Must be the European in him. But, I swear, those guys have the _weirdest _sayings! He insulted Blaine's camel and my Arab father."

"But you're…"

"Yeah. Blonde. Aussie." Jeff collapsed onto Nick's lap, shaking with mirth. "Apparently that's one of the worst things you can be in Malta. Half-Arab."

Kurt shook his head. "I'm assuming you got him calm eventually…"

David snorted.

* * *

><p><strong>Malteser is insulting our 'turkey God' send help WTH DO WE DO?<strong>

_Nick and David's phones both buzzed, and they caught each other's eyes in surprise. _

"_Well… This could be interesting…" David smiled, packing up his notes. "Shall we go check it out?"_

_Nick nodded, turning to Andrew, their other debating partner. "I'm sorry. I have to go. If that's okay? I mean… we have a couple of hours… is that alright? We'll come back as soon as we can, I promise!"_

_It wasn't technically lying. Jeff, Blaine and Thad were all Warblers – the only freshmen. Having three of them in one year was actually pretty rare. And if anyone at the school knew how to deal with crazies, it would be the Warblers. Which is certainly what it sounded like - the crazies. Plus, it was Jeff – from the sly wink David sent along, it must have been pretty obvious Nick would do anything to help him out. Despite the year-level difference, they were best friends. And all of the Warblers were pretty close. And David really should learn how to stop rambling and smooshing words and ideas together and just focus on the road._

* * *

><p>"I forgot how shy you used to be," David glanced at the back seat quickly. How times had changed! They were all so surprised initially that Nick – who barely raised his voice above a whisper in class, Warbler rehearsal, anywhere – had agreed to debate – though when he actually did speak, people listened. When he chose to properly open his mouth, he spoke with such conviction that he could probably get you arguing that the skies are green and oranges are purple. It was one of the reasons he joined the Warblers and fitted in so well – not that he was ready, even now, for a solo, but when he truly performed, he was a story-teller. He would weave whatever he wanted you to believe. Even now, there was still a lot that lurked beneath the surface, that he couldn't really express. But somewhere along the lines he'd gained enough confidence to begin standing up for himself, expressing himself with words, reaching out and letting other people in.<p>

"Nick? Shy?"

The brunette blushed – one of the remnants of the old trait that he still hadn't properly shaken. "I was – yeah. Working out who I was, I guess. Facing my own demons. But I didn't speak. Until I met Jeff." He smiled, glancing up at the blonde and quickly captured his lips in a sweet peck.

"And now we can't get you to shut up!" David joked, whipping his head around as he changed lanes, preparing to pull off the Interstate.

Jeff smirked, pulling Nick's face back up to his. "Oh, I know how to make him shut up." A kiss. "Or, at the very least, how to make him forget he has the _ability_ to form words… It's more moaning… If you get my drift…"

"NOT WHILE I'M DRIVING!" David, on instinct, shielded his eyes, and Kurt hurriedly pulled his hand away, back to the gearstick. "Guys, I will stand on top of the roof and sing your praises 'til the cows come home, but dude. TMI. There are boundaries, you know?"

The pair smirked. Then Nick opened his mouth again – this time, to speak.

* * *

><p>"<em>FLYING SPERM!"<em>

_Nick and David rounded the corner of the 9__th__ grade hall, to be greeted with Thad's translated curses filling up the entire floor, along with a few muffled thuds and a groan. They kicked open the door from which the noise was emanating the loudest – to discover that Jeff had tackled Thad to the ground by the waist and was now attempting to sit on his stomach. Blaine was just watching them, head resting on the table, but still laughing._

"_What the devil is going on here?" David pulled Thad to his feet as Nick wrestled Jeff from the ground, both standing between the boys. _

_Blaine looked up at them, grinning widely. "Thad took offence to our debating topic and then proceeded to insult every r-relative and animal known to us. He l-looked ready to jump out the window when Jeff finally tackled him." He rubbed his eyes tiredly, head going straight back down to its wooden pillow. "I figured it was-w-was better to leave them to it."_

_Nick wandered over to the noticeboard – Jeff was currently incapacitated, doubled over, eyes streaming, so he figured it was safe – and smiled – somewhat of a rare occurrence back then for him. "I'm jealous!" He said quietly, eyes twinkling. "We have to argue that people who embarrass themselves in public shouldn't be shot. I much prefer this!"_

_Even Thad stopped struggling and cursing to stare at him. Three sentences from Nick? Without prompting? In front of people?_

_But Nick continued to surprise them as he walked over to the desk and pulled up a chair beside Blaine, placing a hesitant hand on his back and began gently rubbing circles into his neck, trying to ease some of the tension from his stiff muscles. "Blaine, are you okay? You seem kind of… sick."_

_They all looked over at that stage – Nick talking was unbelievable enough, but he did have a point. Blaine looked drawn – he had that stereotypical black-shrunken-eye thing going on, and the skin on his face looked simultaneously stretched and puckered, like he hadn't had a drink in years. He held out a trembling hand with a small smile. "My blood sugar's l-l-low – I'm dizzy and my head hurts, yeah, but n-nothing lethal. Apart from Thad. Though I think w-we can possibly trust him n-not to inflict too great a damage on the windows or whiteboards a-a-a-any m-more."_

_Nick looked quickly over at Thad, who did appear distinctly less murderous, before turning back to Blaine. "Do you want anything? A soda?" There were times when Blaine's BSL's couldn't allow him to stand and he hoped it wasn't one of those times, but it didn't hurt to offer._

_But Blaine shook his head. "I've got Gatorade in my bag. Thank-k you though."_

"_Well… if you're sure…" Nick stood up and Thad took the now-empty seat, Jeff sitting across the desk from them. He moved towards the door, the frame of which David was hanging from. "We should probably get back." His voice, now that it was no longer required, had turned back into its usual whisper._

_David grinned, flipping over and grabbing Nick's arm, and they ran back to continue practising their own debate._

* * *

><p>Kurt again looked deep in thought. "His stutter – that only happens when he's low, right? So is it not a give-away?"<p>

"Like I said, week from hell," Jeff explained. "He'd been a bit off all week, and that night he did sleep on the desk while we waited for the topics. He was losing his voice, so we just figured that he was just crook and left it at that – at that stage I probably had the best idea about of all the diabetes stuff, but it was still so new to us. I mean, as soon as he begun stuttering we knew to shove sugar down his throat, but he was pretty quiet anyway. We didn't even notice it until Nick started talking to him."

"So how sick was he? Debating wouldn't have been easy with a stutter… and you said he was losing his voice?" Kurt shook his head in amazement. He knew Blaine was always striving for perfection, always over-achieving, always downplaying his own emotions and state of health – which he now realised was probably an overcompensation for the lack of control he had over his life and his own body. Or maybe he just needed to convince everyone that nothing could hold him back – especially himself.

Jeff grimaced.

* * *

><p><em>Blaine began coughing during the second run-through of their speeches, when his voice finally began breaking up. Thad just glared at him – how dare he fall ill and potentially hinder their chance at success? – but Jeff took away his palm cards and forced some lemonade into him. The stutter grew less obvious, but his colour kept draining away – and he was pale enough to begin with. It was like each sentence tumbling from his mouth was drinking away any blood from his cheeks, replacing it first with a horrible grey vaguely representing oatmeal and then to an even more menacing green.<em>

_But Blaine, the idiot he is, decided he had to continue, acknowledging that he while he wasn't well – because, after his blood sugar had sunk to 47, even Thad was beginning to worry – he'd be perfectly fine to debate. _

"_So, I'm basically arguing the feminist side," Jeff told Mr Val, who'd come to check in on them. "Basically stating various examples of achievements and contributions of women to higher society, and we aren't living in the 1900's anymore. And Blaine…"_

_Blaine did grin. "I'm taking it further. Proving that w-women are better than men, and giving examples of other domains that women ought t-take possession of." His voice cracked, pitch leaping into counter-tenor territory and he coughed. "Also, don't take offence if I don't show up to class tomorrow…"_

_Mr Val stared at him, eyes narrowing as he actually took in the boy's appearance. "Blaine, you have to stop working yourself so hard. It's okay to take a breather once in a while – the world will still rotate. We could even have found you a replacement for tonight, if we had to."_

"_And miss this chance? Never!" He chuckled. "I mean… how often do you get to stand up at a boy's school and argue about – but no. I can't tell you. You'll have to watch!"_

_Mr Val stood back up, ruffling Blaine's hair – yeah, Blaine used to leave it ungelled until the freak hair-lice incident. Icky. "Right. Have fun, I'll be back to watch you, I'll try to send Wes in at some point, don't eat yellow snow, beware the leopard, signpost, all that jazz. And Blaine…" The teacher sighed. "Save your voice. And make sure you get some sleep tonight! You're no use to us dead!"_

* * *

><p>"I love Mr Val…" Jeff sighed, a slight dreamy expression on his face.<p>

It didn't go unnoticed by Nick, who elbowed him gently in the ribs. "_Every_one loves Mr Val."

"Who's Mr Val?"

David glimpsed sideways. "Debating coach, one of Wes' mentors. We had him as a sub a couple of weeks ago – he came in and – "

"Told us to sit and contemplate the mysteries of God?" Kurt scrunched his eyes, trying to recall his face. "Yeah. I remember him. He _is_ cute…"

"Not as cute as you," Jeff whispered into Nick's ear, almost apologetically, and turned his head round so they could nuzzle noses.

The pair in the front let them have their moment this time. It had been a crazy evening, and if David weren't straight and Kurt had Blaine, they'd probably be seeking the same thing – someone to hold them, to anchor them down, to tell them that everything would be okay in the end. Someone to experience the same worries as them… It occurred to Kurt then that he could actually truly rely on the car of people then – sure, it was a different sort of bond to the one he shared with Blaine, but these guys cared for him just the same. They could still be of some reassurance. At that moment, he began to fully trust them.

"So, how did he go? I don't think I've actually seen Blaine perform… other than Warblers, of course, but that's different."

"He's hilarious!" David immediately spoke up. "Kid's got talent."

* * *

><p>"<em>Jane Eyre. Radioactivity. Bulletproof vests. Windshield wipers. Any of these sound familiar? Any idea what they all have in common?<em>

"_No? Well, how about Sacagawea? Amelia Earhart? Florence Nightingale? Lady Gaga? Tina Fey?_

"_Ah. You're following me._

"_Now, my good friend Jeff has already spoken about the incredible achievements and discoveries of so many women out there – how we, as a society, have benefited from such inspirations, how we shouldn't be forced to banish them to the kitchens like was done in the dark ages, to view them as a different species, one less intelligent than us, capable only of making a good sandwich._

"_And I do like me a good sandwich."_

_David snorted, sitting a little straighter. Blaine was beginning to gesticulate madly – must be the Italian in him – and he wondered how Blaine was going to take this – whether he'd tread the more serious angle or drive it to a whole new level of humour._

_Blaine twisted his upper body slightly, so that he could clearly speak to the Crawford County girls while still addressing his audience. Clever. If he could convince the opposition of his arguments then he'd possibly trip them up. Or maybe he just needed somewhere calmer to look – they were the least likely to giggle hysterically at his speech…_

"_But, do you know what else? While men have made their own contributions to society, all we've ever really had to focus on is our jobs. It's like our brains can't focus on anything else. Men can't ask for directions – how are we meant to be able to multitask?_

"_But women… On top of their work, there is so much for them to focus on. Look at the horrendous stereotypes we are constantly projecting onto them. The world is constantly telling them no. That because they have an extra X chromosome instead of a Y, that they don't have the brains or stamina or worthiness to dedicate their lives to research, or to make a name for themselves. Can you imagine being in a lab all day, working on a cure for cancer, only to everyday have all your workmates think you unworthy? That you're inferior, that you shouldn't even bother trying and quit while you're ahead?_

"_But, perhaps even more than that – you know what women have to go through that we don't? Periods." The whole room seemed to freeze, uncertain if they were meant to laugh or not. He could hear the sharp intake of breath as half the room seemed to smile though. Blaine, you crazy fool. What are you doing? Trying to commit social suicide? "Yes, you heard me right. Private school boy actually went there. Now, can you imagine what would happen if boys actually did menstruate? We'd all sit around and brag about the size of our tampons. And we'd probably all stick pads to our bodies and do the robot."_

_David cracked up at that point, as Blaine actually mimed the robot – and he wasn't the only one. Looking to his left he saw Nick clutching his stomach in silent giggles, while on his right Wes pressed a hand to his mouth, an expression of pure horror battling with the sheer inability to stop laughing._

"_With my Y chromosome, I cannot claim to have had the pleasure of that particular experience. But, girls," Blaine's eyes twinkling, he raised his hand to his head, miming the tipping of a hat, "I salute you._

"_The other issue here, however, stands that women belong in the kitchen because that's all they can do – cook and clean – while reinforcing the stereotype that men are only good for manual labour. Personally, I take offence to that insinuation." Blaine reached into his bag, smothering a small cough as he did so, and David felt his whole row peer forward. Props, Blaine? Really? With an hour's prep time, you brought props? "And just to prove my point, I would like to present, as a side note, to the opposition here, some cookies that I baked just this morning in class." He held up a zip-lock bag with a half-dozen biscuits in there, placing it gently on their desk. Their third speaker clapped a hand to her mouth as she frantically wrote points of rebuttal, but the other two finally broke, mouthing a thank-you and grinning as they opened the bag. "It's not just women who can cook. The world will not stop rotating because a man decides to bake bread or a woman decides to get a job. It just unfortunately stands that, in ancient tradition, the females uphold the house while the men pay for it._

"_So, if we are correct, women get labelled with the 'kitchen' domain because, _clearly_, that's the area in which they excel, and one common – but not all-encompassing, thank you – downfall of men – they are forced to pick up the slack. Now, let's take this assumption, and go one step further. Because, as we have so clearly demonstrated, women are just as capable as men – just as likely to succeed._

"_But there a-are areas where men might be… shall we say… l-lacking." David's stomach jolted as Blaine tripped over his words again. Damn. He'd been doing so well. But he'd reached that point. Any colour that he'd regained over the last hour completely drained away and he began swaying as he spoke, moving quickly to lean against his desk, knuckles clenching on the edge. But still he kept on. "So, I w-want you to be completely honest w-w-with m-me here." There was a loud rap – Blaine had two minutes left to finish up. "I won't come and ask the sufferers themselves to step forwards – but who has been able to turn on the radio lately and not be assaulted b-by an ad for NASAL DELIVERY?" He leant forward, such a tiny amount – it would only have been noticed by his friends in the front row – a hand flying to his forehead, and his eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, perhaps a millisecond longer than normal. But when they opened again, they were full of life, that dusting of colour back in his cheeks. "If these are anything to judge by, men _obviously_ seem to be needing a little more help in the bedroom than might otherwise be expected."_

_David completely lost it at that point – as did the entire room, Wes and Mr Val included. Nick had actually fallen to the ground in fits of laughter. This was ridiculous. Warblers or no Warblers, there weren't many out there who had the pure gall that Blaine did – coming to a proper debate and basing an argument around _premature ejaculation_. And periods. Of all the things in the world… _

"_So… while some of us may be able to achieve a momentary heightened state of being alone, what would be the point? Sometimes we just… need a little help. And who better to give it to us than a lovely female?_

"_If we assume a normal, heteronormative society, than the average man is going to need some sort of… female assistance, might we say. So, assuming that w-wo-w-women…" he rocked suddenly,groaning. "If we need women's assistance in the bedroom, than why are we limiting women to the kitchen alone? Why can't we use their…" he shivered violently, the tremors visible to the whole room, and he suddenly flushed tomato-red. "Their expertise? What is stopping us from saying that their place is also in the bedroom?"_

"_So, to con… con-n-n-cl… conclude…" Blaine was really struggling now – it was as if his passion talking before had caused his blood sugar to drop rapidly. He'd dropped down on the desk, fully sitting, one hand keeping his head up, his countenance changing rapidly as he flushed and paled, grimaced and forced blankness, consciousness coming in and out of focus… "G-Give a man a-a-a f-fish and you feed him for a d-day. T-teach a man how to use a kitchen and you lead to society im-im… improving as a whole."_

_There was a slightly shocked silence as Blaine slid back into his seat, folding his legs up to his chest and pressing his forehead sharply into the table edge. So, he'd lost it slightly towards the end (what was _with_ that team line?). The Warblers – who made up the vast majority of the audience – knew the reason for this. As Jeff and Thad leant in towards Blaine, pulling out cans of Sprite and jellybeans – Jeff especially trying to prompt him to eat or drink – David began clapping, awkwardly at first, but the whole audience – even the Crawford team – quickly joined in, the room swelling, and Blaine smiled, lifting his head ever so slightly._

_He'd done it._

* * *

><p>Jeff and Nick were still laughing as they pulled off the main road, turning into Kurt's street. Nobody had really realised until then just how talented Blaine was comically – and that debate, especially now they knew he wasn't going to die after it – was one of their favourite memories at Dalton. In fact, it had been spoken about so much that Wes actually organised for Jeff and Blaine to present their speeches to a wider audience.<p>

Kurt's shocked expression set them off even more. Sure, it might be slightly mean to laugh at him, when all he was, was concerned – but they were all so worn out from the stress of the past couple of days that it was really all they could do.

"So… was he alright? What was wrong with him?"

Jeff finally managed to calm down enough to answer.

* * *

><p>"<em>Blaine, stop lying to me." Jeff was somehow able to keep whispering, though he couldn't bite back all of his anger. That kid was so frustrating! "We both know perfectly well that you are <em>not_ fine, so please, stop insulting my intelligence."_

"_It's okay, Jeff." Blaine took a tiny sip of his Gatorade, and they watched Thad jump around for a moment, pointing a finger, literally, at the opposition. "But…" he sighed, "you're right."_

"_Sorry, mate, didn't quite catch that." But Jeff's tone was gentle, a soothing hand rubbing up and down his back._

_Blaine brought a hand to his eyes, looking ridiculously guilty. "I haven't eaten anything since lunch yesterday."_

_Jeff's eyes widened. "You're kidding? How are you not dead yet?"_

_Blaine shook his Gatorade bottle. "I've been getting my carbs. But…" he looked down in embarrassment. "After this… can you take me to the nurse?"_

_Despite all the people sitting straight in front of them, watching them – despite Nick in the front row, next to Wes and David, all of whom were staring straight at them, eyebrows furrowed in concern – Jeff pulled Blaine into a side-hug. "Of course."_

* * *

><p>"You see what I mean now, Kurt?" The boys were now standing outside Kurt's house in the snow (well, Jeff was making snow angels – despite having lived in Ohio for a couple of years, he still got ridiculously excited over the flakes – probably making up for all the snow he didn't get in Australia), a couple of bags of popcorn popping in the microwave (Kurt figured he could at least trust Finn with that much…).<p>

"How stubborn he is? Yeah…"

"He should have been in hospital." Jeff finally sat up, shivering slightly in the wet. "Instead, he went to school for a further two days and actually debated. It took him virtually passing out in front of a room full of people to convince him to just go down to the nurse."

David reached out to Kurt, putting a hand on his shoulder. "And that wasn't a one-off occurrence. Kurt, not only did you get him to admit to being sick, you got him to a hospital. Where they actually have everything to look after him. I know the thought of him being in hospital is scary, but isn't it better off he's there than stuck here with us? We can do a lot, but if it comes to it, we can't save his life."

"What you did was _huge_, Kurt." Nick glanced over at them from the doorstep, a poker kit in his hands. "Blaine's been sick for so long, and so often, that he's forgotten how serious it gets. He only sees it as putting all of us out."

"So, thank you." Jeff bounced over as the bus full of Warblers finally pulled up outside the house, the frozen lawn very quickly becoming an ocean of over-excited teenage boys. "Now, why don't we pop in a movie, set up our poker, and give those two idiots a buzz?"

* * *

><p><strong>Welcome to: STEPH UPDATES AND WRITES YOU AN ESSAY!<strong>

**... Yep. So it is a smooshing of a couple of my own stories. I did once debate when I had gastro and should have been in hospital - I think I missed only a week of school that time. But yeah. Also called 'Steph is an idiot'. And that debating topic? Year 11 house debating. Blaine's speech is basically my own... I did have more points than that, and, believe it or not, my speech was a whole lot more crude and offensive (the joys of an all-girls' school...). And perhaps some of the humour while I was doing it came from the fact that it was _me _saying it - I was known as the quiet, ridiculously smart, musician/scientist type. Most people didn't know I have a (admittedly terrible, though definitely still existent) sense of humour :P Plus I got to insult my male debating coach and totally rip men to pieces :P**

**So... what have I been up to lately?**

**You know what? I totally joined an a capella choir. It is amazing. I wanted to for sooooooo long, to start one up - and then I found one! But, what's perhaps even more exciting... I arranged a mash-up. Rumour Has It Someone Like You was Rolling In the Deep. Yep. It's based on Glee, with a different order and, obviously, Rolling in the Deep chucked in... but I like it. And we're actually going to try it on band camp and see if it works and... yeah. So... we shall see. But if I can convince them, I'll try and get it recorded and chuck it up on Tumblr so I can be even more obnoxious and show it off.**

**Okay. I gotta run. I have an oral tomorrow, and after the midsem break I have an essay, a written prac report and a midsem test... Fun times... Meaning that you're definitely going to be waiting awhile for an update, I'm sorry.**

******I NEED TO ASK THOUGH. IMPORTANT IMPORTANT IMPORTANT. So it was pointed out to me that I most definitely am dragging this along. And I have reasons for that. But, it does raise a point. Now, what I can do: I can write up the Warbler sleepover stuff and post it as a seperate one-shot type thing. Or I can integrate it in here. So, please, let me know which you'd prefer. And whichever gets most votes, I shall do.******

**Thanks to everyone again! Shout-outs to Stranger on the Bus, Different Child, xXLittle Rose AngelXx, Falling. Through. Wonderland, Brook-Lucas-Fan-23, and AweSoMeLAgain! You are all incredible people and I am sooooooo grateful!**

**AND I HIT 250 REVIEWS! *does George Takei happy dance***

**Okay. Like it? Hate it? Want me to take a rather nasty hit to the head today with a hot squash ball? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	44. When The Rain Starts To Fall

"Wes…? W…Wes?"

Such a tiny whisper, it was a miracle he actually heard it. But hear it he did, and Wes' eyes opened with a jolt as he pushed himself up on one arm. How long had he been calling out for? "Blaine, I'm so sorry. I was asleep. What's wrong?"

There were no more words – just sniffling, and, with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Wes knew Blaine was crying. He couldn't blame him. The poor kid must be feeling so wretched… he'd never been good with hospitals… being sick in general, really. They'd all had a crazy week. The "Gap Attack"… well, he didn't really want to think about that. And knowing Blaine, thoughts of Kurt were probably running rampart through his mind… there'd be guilt, yes, plenty of it, because he couldn't deny those thoughts or the actions that led from them, and his sensor had been cut off by his blood sugar levels so he was forced to act purely on impulse… and he was probably now coming to the realisation that he'd have to halt everything, consider every possible angle to make sure it was _right_ first – but he was only going to be causing everyone more pain in the meantime…

"Blaine… shh…" Without even thinking, Wes had jumped the railing of his bed and was rolling the IV stand over. "It's alright… just a dream…" Like old times, when Blaine had first turned up at Dalton, and all those times after, a complete emotional wreck, just needing some comfort, learning to trust again… No panic attack tonight though, thank God… Wes stuck the pole beside the bed and jumped in next to Blaine. It was awkward – they both had tubes tangling, and Wes only had his right arm – but he pulled Blaine close anyway, nuzzling the top of his head with his chin. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Wes blinked. Why did everyone always have to feel they had to apologise to him? If he heard those words one more time… But Blaine continued, not falling into the hysteria to which Wes was so accustomed. "I always screw everything up…"

"What are you apologising for?" Wes picked up a corner of the sheet, blotting away some of the tears as they began to slow. "It's not your fault you got sick."

"You shouldn't be here with me…"

"Blaine, half the Warblers had this bug, and I'm tipping the other half are getting it soon. If anything, it's my fault for not looking after myself." Wes bit back a cough. Well, it was true… He didn't regret it, of course – the boys needed him. But maybe it couldn't hurt to actually get some sleep at some stage…

"You're sick and you need to sleep and all I can think about is how utterly hopeless everything is and I'm sorry, Wes, I shouldn't have woken you up…"

Okay. Maybe he was slightly hysterical. "Hey. Stop that." Wes dropped the sheet, needing to pull Blaine tighter to him. "Come on. Breathe with me, Blaine." Pressure. Keep the pressure up. If he can feel something solid, maybe he'll calm down again. Like old times. When he used to get nightmares and wake screaming and Wes would hold him back in reality. Protect him from the monsters in his head, in his past, real or otherwise.

"And then I went and wrecked all your plans because this stupid disease got in the way…"

"Blaine…" Wes cleared his throat, preparing for plan B. When pure touch failed – which thankfully wasn't often, because Blaine was definitely one of those people who communicated, who loved, through simple contact – the holding of a hand, a pat on the shoulder, a rub on the back – music was the next language.

"I'm such an idiot. Why does everything always end up so… so screwed up? Why can things not just turn out like planned? Why do I always have to end up hurting everyone?"

"Blaine." His voice was stronger now, more forceful. "It's not. your. fault." He began gently humming, nothing recognisable, just random notes, familiar intervals… all eventually becoming a song, one of different lines and borrowed harmonies. And that was all it took. Just a few bars of melody and Blaine fell silent, tears dripping off his nose onto Wes' hand… Falling faster now, harder, but he'd managed to stop spewing words everywhere and his breathing actually seemed to even out a bit… shuddering and choking, perhaps, but they were at least deep.

"Blaine. What's really going on here?" When he finally thought the kid was calm enough, he stopped singing, unravelling himself and pushing himself back up on his arm to look at him, trying to twist so that his left hand at least could keep contact with him. "Come on, man."

"urrrrrrrrr." He mumbled, coughed, and finally opened his mouth a little wider, sighing. "It's Kurt. What else."

Of course. "What _about_ him, Blaine?"

"Where do I even _begin_?" He wailed.

"I find the beginning a very good place to start." The boys both looked up to find Flick whispering, chart pressed against her chest. She smiled, managing to look reassuring and apologetic at the same time. "Sorry to interrupt, boys. I just need a blood sugar and some obs from both of you, and then I'll be out of your hair. Promise. Unless there's anything I can do to help…?" She stood in the frame, curtain closed behind her, waiting.

"Female perspective might help," Blaine admitted, sitting up and putting an arm under Wes so he could help him do the same.

Flick entered the room, brushing a wisp of hair from her eyes and sitting on the now empty bed, passing Blaine his blood testing kit from the table. "So. Tell me everything."

And, Wes helping, they did. How Blaine had sensed almost on meeting that there was some connection. How brilliant Kurt was, how smart and moral and caring and brave. They told her all they knew of Kurt's past – of how much he'd lost, of the bullying that had chased him from McKinley and into their arms. Then the harder part – how out of touch Blaine was, particularly with his emotions. How, thinking almost purely of protecting Kurt, he'd "fallen in love" with the idea of happiness rather than feeling confident enough to chase what was already in front of him. How he wasn't ready yet for that – yet he'd kissed the poor boy anyway, and admitted he loved him.

"Well, that is a bit of a pickle, isn't it?" She smiled in thought as she gently pressed a thermometer into Wes' ear, checking his fever. "I think the best thing you can be right now is honest."

"But that will hurt him."

Wes groaned. "Yes, maybe. But a lot less than if you end up _ruining_ your chances with him by forcing yourself to stick with it and work through it. You'll be lying, it'll be ridiculously stressful, he'll blame himself and you'll just end up resenting each other."

Ouch. The words felt harsh coming out his mouth, like they were sharp enough to actually cut his throat. Blaine actually looked stunned. But then a couple of tears reappeared and he was speaking again.

"So… you're sure this is the right thing to do?"

Flick attached a small clip a finger from both of the boys – checking their pulse and O2 sats, from memory. "We can't make the decision for you, Blaine. But that seems to be the lesser evil." She looked at the monitors, nodded and marked the charts.

Blaine groaned. "I'm an idiot."

They both reached out for him, Wes awkwardly fist-bumping his cheek while Flick ruffled his hair. "Yes. Yes, you are."

"But we love you anyway."

"So, what do I tell him?"

Flick and Wes both sighed. "THE TRUTH."

"YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH." Blaine may be sick, but his wit was just as sharp, and the three of them burst into giggles.

Finally Flick straightened back up. "You're both stable, for the moment. Blaine, be yourself – you're pretty cool. And once you get yourself sorted out, Kurt would be mad not to want you back. It already sounds like he does."

Wes nodded emphatically. "Just tell him you aren't ready – you need to be able to protect him as much as yourself. Tell him not to wait, but that when you reach that point, you'll let him know and just pray to God that no one better has come along."

Blaine hummed his acknowledgement. "Thank you." He wriggled back down under the covers while Flick helped Wes back to his own bed.

"Pleasure. How's the nausea, Blaine?"

"Ab… ab… ab…" He yawned. "Absent."

"That's great!" Her voice dropped back to a whisper. "Anything else I can do for you?"

"I think we're good now," Wes looked fondly at the other bed, stifling a yawn of his own. "Thanks so much."

"Alright. Take care, guys, and get some sleep. I'll check on you before my shift ends, but in case you're both asleep – I hope I don't have to see you here again!"

"Thanks, Flick. Night." Wes was asleep again before his head hit the pillow.

"Night, boys." She disappeared out the blue curtain, chuckling as she heard twin snoring, almost in a minor third.

* * *

><p><strong>Hey, guys! Remember me?<strong>

**I'm so sorry it's taken so long for an update. Like always, work and uni got in the way. Couple that with some crazy writer's block - I think that the story just doesn't want itself to end - and you go nearly a month without anything. Though I did manage to get a few one-shots posted. And the sequel! Which is called Of Red Vines and Glucagon.**

**Soooooooooo exhausted. It's 3 am. And I'm at work in 5 hours. And I have an essay to complete this weekend. Oh, joy! :P Nah, essay shouldn't be too bad... it's analysing the relationship between "real and artificial" in the Narcissus and Echo story. :D**

**So, if you guys are interested at all, I've come across this amazing fic recently - it's called Control, by Carbon65, and shows in much better writing more of the struggles and lack of control that so many of us diabetics feel - everyone, really, at some point in their lives. She also updates regularly, which is a nice change. :D**

**I should have things to tell you but honestly, I'm wrecked and can't think of anything.**

**I guess, I could tell you all that, as for me taking control back of my life, I'm (attempting to) posting my BSLs on Tumblr in the hopes of actually testing... Lately it's been more me testing and forgetting to post, but we're getting there. And I explain and stuff too. So, if you're interested, or you just want to chat, or need advice or venting or whatever, like always - PM me or hit up my Ask at pi-on-a-skateboard. tumblr. com :D**

**So... thank you to everyone who's read, subscribed, favourited and reviewed! Special shout-outs to Caity0898, KlaineLuneville, the anon who sings Teenage Dream while brushing their teeth - I tip my hat to you - , AddiTood57, Different Child, AweSoMeLAgain, xXLittle Rose AngelXx, Stranger on the Bus, Brook-Lucas-Fan-23, and Falling. Through. Wonderland. With a massive shout-out to Carbon65, who nearly - but not quite - pushed me to the 300 review mark! And for the pretty epic discussions we've been having and elsewise. :D**

**Love you all!**

**Like it? Hate it? Want me to be literally crushed by hugs from my clients tomorrow? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	45. Wrestle With The Devil

_Babe… I got you, babe_…

Shit! His phone! Where was it?

_Babe… I got you, babe…_

… Where was he? His arm really hurt… and he couldn't move it…

_Babe… I got you, babe…_

Hospital. That's right. Blaine was asleep in the bed next to him. His phone was still ringing.

_Babe… I got y – _

"Hello?" He whispered, clumsily answering and bringing the cell to his ear, clamping it between his head and the pillow.

"**Wes! Guys, he's awake!**"

"**Wes!**"

"**OMG WES YOU DIDN'T DIE!**"

"**Trent! Don't say that!**"

"**Top o' th' mornin' to ya, lad! How ye be fairin' this fine day?**"

"**GUYS! Shut up!**" He could hear his boys shouting over each other on the other end of the phone… What time was it? 7:30. How were they all awake? And how had he managed to sleep that late? He must have been _wrecked_.

"Hi, guys! Hi, David!" A smile crept onto his face, its warmth spreading down his body in much the same way a cup of tea does on a cold day. Though it was very quickly replaced with the ice he'd woken up with, and he shivered, trying to pull the covers closer to him.

"**Why are you whispering?**"

He snorted – couldn't afford to laugh yet. Actually, he wasn't certain he even had the ability to produce that much noise with his throat… "Blaine's still asleep."

"**That kid can sleep through a hurricane.**" He could hear the boys laughing… but also cogs turning in David's head. No… "**I know…**" No, don't let him guess. He didn't want to appear any sicker or weaker than he already was… "**You lost your voice, didn't you?**"

"No…" He looked over at Blaine's bed, the tiny teddy bear under a blanket of curls, his eyes closed… as he let out a gentle snore. Wes giggled… which turned into a coughing fit.

"**Jesus, Wes. I know you hate the things, but you might find you miss that lung once you cough it up.**" David's voice was dripping with worry as he gasped, a nurse, having heard him struggle, pouring him a cup of water. But they were definitely best friends for a reason – David started to laugh. "**Thank God you chose **_**now**_**, the day **_**after**_** our performance to lose it!**"

"I haven't actually tried speaking yet, you know," Wes told him, groaning inwardly. Well, at least the rest of them would get a kick out of it….

"**I'll save the puberty jokes for later than, shall I?**"

Wes stuck his tongue out, his cheeks flushing rubies.

"**Don't you poke your tongue out at me, Mister.**" Of course. It was David. The Fred to his George. The Stimpy to his Ren. The Pippin to his Merry. The soundblock to his gavel… Or maybe not. He didn't want to think about banging David, even in the strictly literal meaning of the term. "**So, how are you? Did the unicorns visit you and tell you all about their point? The most prominent being their horn, obviously**."

"What?" The nurse, who had just pinched his skin – though why they were looking for signs of dehydration after he'd been on a drip all night, Wes wasn't sure – jumped a mile in the air at his exclamation. But either his vocal cords had jumped out his throat with the interrogative, or someone had a _seriously_ tight vice on his balls, because, as David so nicely phrased it:

"**Oh, God. Now, let's think… Where did you last see your voice? Have you checked under your bed? In the freezer? In Thad's wallet?**"

"Better go check your mother's bed for me, David." There was a snort from the other bed, and Wes rolled to look over in hope. Yep. Apparently he'd woken Blaine – his hazel eyes glowing, his cheeks still a little too pale bar a few odd blotches of colour, his eyes a little too bruised-looking, his face a little too thin – but awake nonetheless, and looking distinctly less nauseated. "Give me a minute – Blaine just woke up, so I'm putting you on loudspeaker. And I think the nurse needs some obs or something from me too." With a little help, he managed to sit himself up, pressing a couple of buttons on the phone so that David's voice echoed around the room.

"**How are you both? Coming home today?**"

The nurse bent over Wes, clipping a sat-monitor to his finger while thrusting the thermometer into his ear.

"I just woke up." Blaine told them, his voice also still horrifyingly hoarse. "I'm… better, I think. At least… I feel high, and they've had me on a drip all night. So, should be later today if nothing else goes wrong."

The nurse, meanwhile, frowned as he examined the beeping thermometer. "Wes, right? You're 103.5…"

"Not surprising," he said, shivering violently. "I tend to run really high fevers with tonsillitis. It's not dangerous enough to keep me here though, right? I'd much rather just sleep this off at home…"

"**Wes? You okay?**" The absence of background noise suggested the phone had been switched off loud-speaker. Thank God someone – Nick, probably – had tact.

"I'll check with the doctor about when we can discharge you – you're on the borderline, but we don't want to keep you longer than necessary…" The nurse stepped back, noting down the sats. "How's your throat?"

"Painful."

"Head? Stomach?"

"I have tonsillitis…" Wes sighed. Did they have to do this with David on the phone? Sure, he felt like crap – he'd collapsed last night so it was pretty obvious everyone knew. But did they have to know the extent? "Stomach's fine. But I'm so… so…" he turned away, sneezing a few times. "Ugh. Sorry. I'm so stuffed up and feverish, so yeah, there's a bit of a headache…"

"**Bless you.**" He could hear whispering on the phone. Damn. Probably David was reassuring the boys, but… he didn't want that to have to happen.

"Anything else? Neck or back pain?"

"Fine, relatively."

"Any – "

"No rashes. I don't have meningitis – just a fever." Well, he was sick. He was allowed to begin losing his temper, right?

But the nurse just grinned, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Hey, Mr-future-doctor, I'm just the messenger!" He poured another cup of water and pulled the sheets off Wes. "I'll go get you some acetaminophen, alright? Let's get your temperature back down a bit, and then we'll see about getting you home."

Wes took a few sips of water – which was _freezing_ – before slipping back down on his bed, eyes fluttering shut.

"**Dude. What's going on?**"

Nope. Eyes open. Gotta stay awake til you can get out of here… or at least some drugs…

"_He's hot-blooded, check it and see… He's got a fever of a hundred and three… point five_."

"Blaine!" Wes rubbed at his throat, almost as if trying to stretch his voice back out, as it protested and cracked from his cry. "I'd throw my… my… my box of tissues at you if I had the energy!"

"**Shit. Wes…**"

"Hey, not my fault I'm sick," he rasped, giving up completely. His voice was shot – and they all knew it. No point trying to hide it now. "You've seen me in rehearsal with this sort of temperature. Hell, you've seen me burning up _worse_ than this before too. Remember last year?"

"**Do you mean that time we shipped you out to get your appendix removed? Or that time I sat with you in an ice bath while we waited for another ambulance? I clearly remember you freaking out, thinking we'd used your gavel collection instead of ice chips.**" That was a fun memory… at least, what he had of it. David and Blaine had been trying to convince him to go down to the nurse when his temperature hit 104, but, half an hour later, Jeff had walked in – they were looking after him in shifts – and freaked out when the thermometer read 105.8. He'd sent everyone running for ice or the nurse, and kept checking the machine, thinking it broken… He could vaguely recall David holding him under the water to try and keep him there and cool him down… Something about chocolate and cheese being a really good combination, and that nightmare in the water… It was so strange to think the extent that his friends would go for him.

"Still haven't recovered from that?"

"**I was sitting behind you, you just lying in my arms in your little Simpsons boxers. If seeing you practically naked – **"

"Thanks, David."

" – **practically naked wasn't enough, we all thought you were dying. So, **_**no**_**, Mr Montgomery – I **_**haven't**_** quite recovered from that yet.**"

Blaine coughed a laugh. "I remember that. What was he muttering about that time?"

"**Giant slides from the Empire State building. And Narnia.**"

"You were a tree that I was building a cubby house in…" Wes blushed.

"I was Mr Tumnus, wasn't I? And Jeff… was… Edmund?"

"… ridiculous obsession with Turkish Delights…"

Blaine snorted, scratching absentmindedly at his right arm. Wes glanced over, saw that a few hives had popped up around the cannula. Odd… Maybe a latex allergy…

"**Anyhoo… We're taking it pretty easy today. Thought we should check in with you guys before we left. Jeff, Nick and Kurt'll be hanging around though, to drive your car back, Blaine – so if either of you get to come home today, we can come getcha. Sound alright?**"

"Sounds fine," Wes told them. "Drive safely!"

"**Go get some sleep – you sound exhausted. I don't care if you just woke up – you obviously need more. And no serenading nurses, as tempting as it may be – while huskiness is **_**soooo**_** sexy in females, it just makes you sound like you're thirteen again.**"

He chuckled. "Yes, sir."

"**Make sure Blaine doesn't die, or Kurt will stab my balls with a rusty sai sword. Blaine, the same for Wes, or I'll sic Kurt on you.**"

Blaine laughed as the nurse walked back in, handing Wes some pills. "Sai swords? Really?"

"You haven't seen them?" Wes grimaced, swallowing the Tylenol, as Blaine shook his head in response, dreamy lustful expression clouding his eyes. "He nearly decapitated me the other day… Make sure you knock before entering a room if Kurt's around!"

"**Yeah, well, I like my balls unpierced by any sort of metal so… both of you, please, stay alive for once. Now I gotta go help clean up... and keep Trent away from the PlayStation, unless he actually **_**can**_** fix it again… So you two get better, and we'll talk to you soon.**"

"Thanks, David."

"Bye, guys!"

With that, Wes hung up the phone again, not even bothering to put it on the bedside table as he gathered the sheets, the next rigor taking hold of him. Yet despite how physically horrible he felt, that phone call had been enough – he actually did feel a little better. And so, the image of Blaine still rubbing at his arm, yet thoughts of his friends and the… adventures… they must have had last night colouring his imagination, Wes' eyes fluttered shut as his mind wiped its slate clean and sleep pulled him into its lofty bed.

* * *

><p>"<em>Temperature's back down to 100.3."<em>

"_How's the shoulder?"_

"_Images show it's properly aligned, no obvious structural damage…"_

Wes sniffed, raising his right hand to his face, eyes still closed.

"_So when he wakes up?"_

There were strange people in his room. Voices… talking about him? He had to wake up. Had to talk to them. To work out what they were saying.

"_So he's okay then? Why did he faint yesterday?_"

That was Blaine. Blaine sounded funny… like he was sick. Who fainted?

"_You said he'd been up all night before? Sheer exhaustion probably caused the syncope – the collapsing. Apart from the shoulder and infection, we didn't find anything wrong. You don't need to worry about him, Blaine. Just get yourself better first._"

Oh. Yeah. That was him. That made sense. He hadn't slept well in ages. Too much going on.

"_Here – I can't stay. Give this to him when he wakes up. For pain medication._"

"_Yeah, I'll look after it. Thanks, John._"

"_He was rather… abrupt…_"

"_Doctors. What can you say?"_ A quiet giggle. "_How long has he been out?_"

That voice was familiar too…

"_About an hour… He'll be up soon. He doesn't sleep. Ever._"

He groaned.

"_Aw… Look at him… Poor thing._"

"_Shh… He's – _"

Wes blinked and, with a sneeze, sat himself up.

"Well, good morning, sunshine!" Blaine greeted him from his bed. "Did you sleep well?"

"Nnghhh."

"Oh, nnghhh?"

"Shaddup." Wes yawned, flexing his toes to full capacity. Alright, he was awake. And hot. Very hot.

"Wes!" Someone in a white coat, holding an X-ray image greeted him. Someone tiny… with very red hair. "How are you feeling?"

"Flick!" He grinned. "What are you still doing here?"

"Oh, your poor voice. Don't worry, Wes – we'll transfigure you back to human soon enough."

He stared at her blankly.

"Because you're a little hoarse…" She bit her lip. "And I'm a HUGE Potterhead…"

Blaine coughed.

"I love you, Flick." He reached over the side rail, pulled her into a hug. "Seriously, though – why are you here?"

"My shift's about to end… and… well… I might be slightly a fangirl…" She grabbed a seat, wheeling it over to Wes' bed. "See, I have this thing for a cappella choirs… God, this sounds creepy. But, well, I own your album and I thought I recognised you both from when you guys performed at the Children's Hospital – I was on rotation then. And, well, I wanted to actually say goodbye before you left anyway…"

Wow. Someone had actually recognised them? They themselves were actually _recognisable_?

"And, I mean, your arrangement of OMG was just… incredible. And Britney actually had me in tears…"

That was _his_ arrangement. And Blaine's. Wow. "Thank you!"

"Uh. Yes. Enough of embarrassing myself. Wes, stop evading. How _are_ you?"

Well, fine then. He brought awareness quickly over his body… His shoulder had faded to a dull – strong, but dull – ache, his head still felt like someone was squeezing it but wasn't overly painful, his eyes were prickling with the fever but not burning like before… "Tired. Sick. Sore," he told them. "But, a bit better. My throat's full of formic acid rather than hydrochloric, and I'm assuming by the fact I'm now _boiling_ that my temperature's lower…" He was honest. He had to be. But man, did he want to go home. To see his boys and to just crawl into bed and _sleep_ and just… not be here.

"Great!" She grabbed his chart from the bedside table, flicking through it. "So, I'll sign your chart, and you're free to go when your ride gets here."

"I've already texted Jeff," Blaine told him, smiling. "They'll probably be here in half an hour or so."

"And considering we found Blaine at 270 an hour ago, he's fine to be discharged too," Flick continued. "Now, you live in Westerville, right?"

"At Dalton, yes."

"So you can come back here for physical therapy if you want – my friend Matt is one of the OTs here and he's _great_… but it is a hike, so we can also refer you over to the Kids' in Westerville. I've got a prescription for codeine for you too. This was your first subluxation, right?"

"Lucky me."

"Yep. So, we want to keep it as still as possible. You don't have to sleep with the sling, or keep it fully immobilised, but the basic thing being, if it causes pain, don't do it. No push-ups, no heavy lifting, try to move the joint as little as possible in the meantime. As for the fever, I know you've a history of pyresis, so if it's not coming down with meds or if it shoots above 105, I want you back in the ER. Got it?"

Wes sighed. "Yes. If I have to."

Flick gave a small smile. "I know. It's wanky. As for being sick in general, I'm sure you can figure it out for yourself… or your school nurse should know what to do anyhow."

Blaine began coughing again, reaching for the water. Which reminded Wes – "Blaine's arm… He had a rash before…"

"Probably a reaction to the adhesive on the Tegaderm," she reassured him.

But Blaine was now bright red in the face, still coughing and gasping.

"Although…" she continued, worry coagulating her voice.

Was it just Wes, or did his lips look kind of swollen? And his face blotchy? And… oh, God. Like David.

"He may be reacting to something else…" He watched her swallow, though her voice remained remarkably calm. "Blaine? Are you allergic to anything?"

The curly-haired boy shook his head, his eyes wide in shock.

"Do you feel okay?"

His hands were now clenching and unclenching the blanket rapidly. "Can't… breathe…"

Wes' hand was already clumsily hitting the red call button.

"Choking…" Blaine grabbed at his throat, nails scrabbling across the skin, as if trying to throw off the throttling hand of the devil himself.

He didn't have any allergies. How could he be in anaphylaxis?

"Can I get some help in here?" Flick yelled out, spurred instantly to action, slipping an oxygen mask over Blaine's face and turning it on without delay. "I need the epinephrine. Like, immediately."

"… Help…"

Where were the nurses?

"… me…"

Shit. God, help him.

"… Wes…"

God. Please, God. God, please. Don't let him die.

Not like this.

* * *

><p><strong>Also know as Steph is a piece of work :P<strong>

**Wes decided he wanted some attention... Hope you guys don't mind too much.**

**So... Basically what's been happening with me is uni - usual stuff with work and my choir and the such, but I'm a 3rd year uni student and I have exams in about a week *STRESS* so it's been hard finding time to actually write. And on top of that, with my choir - I actually got nominated as one of the publicity officers for the music society my choir belongs to, so I'm even busier with that.**

**So, you should all go thank, and congratulate, Carbon65 for the update - I made a deal with her, and me publishing the next chapter, albeit VERY LATE, was her reward. :D**

**My final exam, by the way, is June 13, so I will be able to write and publish a lot more frequently after that... for about 6 weeks... until semester 2 starts :P**

**THANK YOU TO STRANGER ON THE BUS - who was the ONLY smart arse to point out a few chapters back the unicorn thing. I am slightly disappointed that no one else found my irony... But that's okay. I'll train you all in smart-arsedness. Or not. :P**

**Thanks also to Carbon65 (major shout outs for you this week, hmm?) for the Trent comment... Troaster forever! Or... TrayStation? PlayTrent? :P**

**I'm sure you all know by now that I don't actually own anything recognisable... except for Flick... who is totally me, in terms of fangirling... :D ... but yeah. I'm sorry. I'm not RIB. If I were any of them, the whole show would basically be Warblers... So yeah. There is your evidence :P**

**Thank you sooooooo much to absolutely everyone who has stuck through this. I know it's been AGES since I last updated you, so let me know if you guys are still around! Or come yell at me, or do something... I don't have time to write but I try to reply to everything, so come say hi! And, like I keep saying - if you guys need help or to chat or anything at all, I'm around - you are welcome at ANY time for ANY reason to come let off some steam - either PM me or invade my Ask over on Tumblr - pi-on-a-skateboard. tumblr. com. Yeah, I know, you're sick of me saying it, but yeah. Just repeating, I suppose. :P**

**So, thanks to all my lovely, amazing, charming, readers, subscribers, favouriters and reviewers! Shout outs to KlaineLuneville, Caity0898, PenMagic, Stranger on the Bus, Different Child, Brook-Lucas-Fan-23, Carbon65, xXLittle Rose AngelXx, Eraman, GleekBert, and flower pot girl. Whoo! Breathless after that... And KlaineLuneville will have another shout-out for being the 300th reviewer. OMG.**

**300 reviews. It's CRAY CRAY. You guys are amazing.**

**Oh! That reminds me. Going along with my publicity stunt... would you guys be interested in seeing my choir? And, if you could see ANY song arranged a cappella - which would you choose? ... Also known as Steph has no idea what to arrange when she FINALLY gets time off...**

**OH! AND... I'm writing The Warbler Files. So I shall ask you all now too - if you could see the Warblers (or individual members) sing any song, what would you choose? Or do you have any scenes you want written? Yes, I am taking prompts... and I do have half a chapter written to start the thing off SO, depending on how well my revision goes, you may get something from me in the next month.**

**Alright. Enough of me talking your ear off. **

**Like it? Hate it? Want my friends to mistake me for a djembe and beat me to death? Please let me know!**

**Keep smling! :D**


	46. You've Got The Music In You

"You're sure he has no history of allergies?

"Yeah. I mean, he gets hay fever and stuff but my friend, David – he got stung by a bee once and went into anaphylaxis and Blaine couldn't recognise the EpiPen so… I think it's a safe assumption."

"What about food or drink? Latex? Antibiotics?"

"He's pretty clueless, but not suicidal. If he knew he was allergic to penicillin, he would have told you. I assume you're thinking reaction to the amoxyl?"

"Yeah, it seems most likely – it happened a few minutes after his last antibiotic dose and it's much more common than Tegaderm. Plus, the hives were localised around the adhesive – so probably not connected."

"Poor kid." Wes brushed a few limp curls away from Blaine's eyes, and for a moment they just watched him. He was even whiter again – snow would look grey against him. His face was too puffy and bruised-looking. He still hadn't regained consciousness. But he _was_ breathing, deep and slow and even. And that was about all the reassurance they were going to get. At least, until Blaine had slept off the most recent shock to his system.

Flick passed him a roller bandage. "I'll take the Tegaderm off, but we'll need to keep the IV in a little longer. If you promise not to breathe on the portal, do you want to secure it?"

"You'll have to help me lock it off," he told her, indicating his left arm. "But thanks."

They bent over Blaine's hand, the sudden silence ebbing between them, breathing the only sounds permissible. But it wasn't uncomfortable or awkward… it was almost calming. Listening to him was just proof that he was still here… proof that he would come out of it, probably laughing at how much he'd scared them.

"How are you doing, Wes? Are you alright?"

He snorted – probably the best response he could give, really. "God, he terrifies me sometimes… But I've given him glucagon before, and I've given EpiPens and set up nebulisers and the such. My boys all trust me so… while it's scary, I guess I've trained myself not to panic anymore."

"_Your_ boys," Flick whispered, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, they… I…" Wes almost chuckled, his thumb rubbing smooth circles over Blaine's hand. "It's a boarding school. I've… had a lot of life experience, shall we say? I'm head Warbler – have been for just over a year now – and a senior house prefect, and debating captain. So… lots of guys know me. And because of everything I've been through… Well, it's taught me a lot. But the guys, they all seem to trust me, and, well, I feel like their big brother. Blaine, he…" His voice broke away completely as he struggled to keep in the tears. "He said I was a father to him once. Poor kid doesn't know the meaning of the word, but… he's mine. They all are. I have to look after them."

"You haven't failed that, you know?" She handed him a tissue, voice urgent. "It's not your fault that _any_ of this happened."

"I know, but… I still feel like I let him down. Like I let everyone down. I'm meant to be the strong one…" He was fully crying now, silently, body shaking with grief. Flick's heart just broke. There was something so… melancholic about seeing the boy lose control like this. It was tragic… archaic. Like time was falling apart at the seams. Or maybe the stress from God knows when for the poor kid had just built and built and he was slowly trying to release it. Her natural instinct was to wrap her arms around him, to protect _him_ for once, to let him know everything was okay… But she was almost afraid of _moving_, let alone touching him – like watching a wall begin to crumble, slowly at first, so small you barely notice it, but then you breathe too heavily or even just shift your weight wrongly and the foundation disappears and it all crashes to the ground in a heap of dust and ash.

That didn't mean that she couldn't put up some beams and supports in the meantime though. She sat down, biting her lip. She had to do something… so she took in a deep breath and began humming.

Flick hadn't sung in a long time… since Med school, really. She'd just get home from her shifts, and whatever she carried along with her, maybe pop a bowl in the microwave and collapse into bed. Half the time she didn't even make it past the couch. But music had always been a pretty big part of her life, as she knew it was for both these kids… Maybe she could at least let them hear her, make them listen…

_I am sailing. I am sailing,_

_Home again, 'cross the sea._

_I am sailing stormy waters_

_To be near you, to be free._

Wes slumped forward, head on his open hand, sniffling, gasping. He must… she wanted to know what it was. Why he felt he had to take charge of his friends. What sort of life experience he _had_ had. Why they seemed to be his family… She could just sense such an awful loneliness, a hunger… no, not a hunger – the word was too weak and too active at the same time. It was like a void that had just been ripped open. It was drawing her in, calling her to action… she had to do something.

Could she hug him? Could she hold him, rock him? Or would that just further that emptiness? Would she be sucked in with that vacuum?

She couldn't move. Not yet. So she kept singing.

_I am flying. I am flying_

_Like a bird 'cross the sky._

_I am dying, forever trying_

_To be with you, to be free._

A cough. A splutter – the first sound he'd made really. Was he calming down? His head was now on his arm, resting on the rails of the bed, as he continued stroking Blaine's hand. Whispering… but what?

"I'm sorry." _Gasp._ "I couldn't… I couldn't pr… protect you." _Sniffle._ "I couldn't stop it." _A pause… breathing…_ "Blaine… I'm so sorry." _Cough_. "God, just… please…" _Sniff._ "Please wake up soon…"

That was… that wasn't the grief of friendship. It wasn't the grief of a boyfriend, of a husband, of a brother… it was the grief a father, cold and cruel and harsh and unforgiving, like the ice on a narrow, winding road hanging over a cliff…

There was a tentative pull on the curtains… the boys' friends were outside. Jeff, she knew, was one of them. And there were two others standing there… Without any words, she pointed at Wes – chiefly, at his hospital gown – pinching her jacket while pulling out a couple of $20 notes from her wallet. The blonde nodded, mouthing, _thanks_. The lighter brunette looked absolutely horror-stricken… that might have been Kurt? Blaine's… friend? Meanwhile, the darker one had hugged him, grabbing the blonde's spare hand and leading them downstairs… Guess those guys really were a family… Those three definitely knew how to look after each other. Knew to give them a little privacy. Knew not to comment on how strange it was to see your friend crying and a doctor singing. They probably wouldn't even comment on it later. Intuitive…

_Can you hear me? Can you hear me_

_Through the dark night, far away?_

_I am dying, forever trying_

_To be with you, who can say?_

A hand on his right shoulder. That's all it took. Wes awkwardly met her hand, gripping it… then spun himself around.

"Flick. You… Thank you, but… didn't your shift end an hour ago?"

"I haven't finished on time, well, ever. An hour over is early," she reassured him. "He's going to be okay, you know."

"He always is…" The tears kept rolling, and he kept wiping them away. But he wasn't the Agrico Gypsum Stack… more like the Leaning Tower of Piza. Flick finally pulled him into a hug.

"I'm tipping that wasn't just about Blaine, hmm?"

He stiffened. "Thanks for singing. That kinda helped."

"Do you want to talk?"

"Why the Rod Stewart?"

He was avoiding… and that wasn't her job. Or her place, really. He'd gotten some of it out – he'd obviously felt okay to break down. She wouldn't prolong it. "I grew up listening to him. _Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?_ is my favourite of his, but I thought that might be slightly inappropriate."

"Yeah, just a little." Wes smiled. "Thank you…"

"For what?"

"For being here. For not pressing the issue… for looking after us."

She actually hadn't been thanked by a patient in a really long time. Like, you have no idea how long… and she wasn't sure why she was now mentally conversing with herself in second person…

"I mean," he continued, a little hesitantly. Better listen. "The school… Dalton is amazing. We're all like a big family. We come from all different sorts of backgrounds, all different walks of life – most of the guys have _graveyards_ in their closets, and some of the guys I'm closest to probably wish that they'd never come out, that they were hanging out back _in_ there with the skeletons… It makes the environment pretty special – I'm so lucky to be sent there, rather than be shuffled from home to foster home." So, an orphan. Okay. "Blaine came here, running not just from his school but from his parents… His sister, I'm sure you'll meet – she's his next of kin. He's emancipated and… I don't know. He always had to look after her more than the other way round. He… doesn't let people in. So, the instant I met him, crying over Britney Spears and trying to hide his low blood sugar, I knew we had a lot of work to do."

"Like a charge? Dude, how _old_ are you?"

"19 in a couple of weeks. I repeated a grade… I was 17. Nearly 18, when I met him. He was held back as well, so he was 16 at the time. Early birthday. But he's… quite young in a lot of ways. But… well, I can't tell you a lot. It's not my place to. But he doesn't really know what it's like to be cared for. His parents," he absolutely _spat_ the world, with such unimaginable disdain, like a mouthful of food after you see a horrible waiter giggling when you eat it, "struck a fear in him of being weak or selfish or anything less than this superhuman image he expects himself to be."

She couldn't help herself. "And you don't?"

But Wes grimaced. "I still expect perfection from myself. But, my major drawback is my temper." He ran a shaky hand through his hair. "Blaine, he… he's self-destructive. He's better now… But you're right. We're a little too similar at times. It's spooky."

Blaine, as if he knew they were speaking about him, shifted a little, sheets whispering as he stirred. But his eyes still remained closed, lids fluttering as he dreamed…

"I've been trying to help him ever since. I've been… honestly, I feel a little like he actually _is_ my son. The others are his brothers – mine too – but what we have is different. I was the first guy he started opening up to. The first he started trusting. I've looked after him so often… I've treated his hypos, cleaned his wounds, calmed him after a nightmare or panic attack, driven him around… Given him guy advice, even, which is truly bizarre.

"So… I think just having someone else look after him is nice. And me too. I just… I really appreciate it."

"Really appreciate what?" A happy Australian accent suddenly floated through the curtains.

"Must by your ass, hon." A Texan (?) accent this time – and Wes broke into a huge grin – the first genuine one she'd seen in a long time.

"Hi, guys!" The curtain thrust open, and the three boys Flick had seen before tumbled into the room.

First came the blonde, who held out a pair of jade green jeans and a black AC/DC top, complete with red beanie. "Sorry it's a little… odd… but there's only so much you can buy from a hospital gift shop." So that was the Aussie. He handed them to Wes, glancing at Blaine's bed without blinking – then went to shake Flick's hand. "I'm Jeff," he offered with a grin, slipping her change into her hands with the greeting – obviously he'd practised magic at some point in time.

"I'm Nick." Then came the boy with the darker hair. He had a sort of crooked nose with these brilliant deep eyes… and she could tell instantly those two were a couple, with that "I'm in public so I'll try to tone down my love" arm slung around Jeff's back… which slowly dropped to his waist in the privacy of the room. He smiled, somewhat shyly. "Thank you for looking after them for us." He shook her hand quickly, then reached it around to the shoulders of the third boy.

"I'm Kurt." The final boy offered his hand last, eyes red-rimmed, cheeks tear-stained. This must be who Blaine was talking to – and about – last night. "What… what happened to him? He was okay this morning…"

Wes opened his – well, arm, really – and Kurt dropped onto his good shoulder. "Hey, little blackbird." He had pet names for them? Really? "As it turns out, Blaine's allergic to… well, probably penicillin. He had a really bad reaction maybe half an hour ago. But Flick got him on oxygen and gave him epinephrine, and he's okay. Just sleeping."

Kurt looked towards her, and her heart split in two. Not just because of everything that Blaine had said – she knew what was coming in the future… And Kurt obviously cared a great deal for him. But there was fear in his eyes. Not the usual "I'm worried for the life of my best friend/family member/boyfriend" fear that her earlier ER and ICU rounds had taught her. She saw those every day coming in from the car park. It was almost like… there was something else, something in his past, some bad experience. It was like he was afraid of the hospital as much as whatever caused them to end up there.

"See his eyes fluttering around?" Jeff pointed out. "That means he's in REM sleep, right?" She nodded. "So, he's dreaming. I learnt about it in psych. We could totally mess with his dreams…"

Nick shook a warning finger, complete with commanding glare, at his boyfriend before turning back to the bed. "How are you, Wes?" Nick wrapped an arm carefully around his neck. God, these guys were very… affectionate… They actually _were_ like brothers. "I'd say you sound better than this morning, but I don't want to offend you, what with all the voice shrinking and disappearing and the such."

Wes smiled. "I _am_ better. Still feel awful, I'm not gonna lie – but meds helped."

"Bloody hell. You got him to take _paracetamol_?" Jeff dropped to his knees theatrically. "Magic woman! Teach me the ways of your people!"

Flick laughed as Nick pulled him back up. _He didn't sleep last night_, he mouthed, pointing at the overzealous blonde.

"You tell him he can't go home with a fever of 103 and he'll take _anything_," she told them, grinning cheekily. "I should have bargained harder – could have gotten something more from you!"

"You should get something," Wes quickly offered. "I'd usually suggest a song, especially with my lead singers here, but… well, I can't really do much at the moment… How about we arrange you a song and send you our next album?"

She… may have squealed internally. "Really?"

Jeff and Nick stopped to stare at him… Was he flirting? Or taking the piss? What was going on?

"Of course. You've been… incredible. I mean, you just spent the last hour overtime chatting with us… Do you have any requests?"

She giggled. "Oh, anything. I just love hearing you guys sing!"

Wes cracked up at the guys' expressions. "Flick's a fan," he explained. "And, seriously, why the hell are you still here? Go home already!"

"Well, you're about to leave. And, seeing how this is America, we'll have to do that hideously embarrassing wheeling-you-out-in-a-chair thing."

"Finally I'll see what it's like for my clients," he muttered under his breath.

"So, I may as well be the one to do that, rather than have to fetch one of the poor, overworked nurses," she continued as if without interruption-without-context, "seeing as I'm on my way out anyway."

"Guess that means I should get changed then?" Wes eyed the clothes warily. Oh. His shoulder…

The boys must have picked up on that awkward glance to though. "Do what you can, Wes, and we'll help with the rest." Jeff pulled a thick woollen blanket from Kurt's bag. "The top should be fairly loose… and it's FREEZING out there, mate. So we'll wrap ya up, nice and snug in this, and then we'll get ya home. Sound good?"

"Sounds fan_tas_tic," Wes told them with a yawn.

"So, I'll go grab my stuff while you're getting ready. I'll meet you back… probably when you're done, I guess."

"Beauty!" Jeff picked up the clothes, dragging Wes along on the wheelie chair. "Come on, sickie. Let's get you home."

She grinned, shaking her head. Those guys were too cute!

"Hey, Flick?" A nurse called out to her as she hurried to the locker room.

"How's it hanging, Jose?"

He grinned in return, handing her a card. "It may be past midnight, but you haven't slept yet. So – happy birthday!"

Jeff whipped around, pulling the guys out of the room. Then, with a blow of the pitch-pipe – and God knows why they had _that_ on them – they began to sing to her in 3-part harmony, Wes kissing her hand. They'd known her a grand total of 5 minutes and were grateful enough they had to let her know by singing a complete stranger _Happy Birthday_.

This was why she did what she did.

* * *

><p><strong>Welcome to the chapter that does NOT want to end.<strong>

**I'm tired. I'm not rambling. I'm sorry.**

**Happy birthday to Justine!**

**Thanks so much to everyone that's read and reviewed and subscribed and favourited and everything. This story is just going on 50,000 hits now, and it just blows me away. So thank you! And big thanks to: AddiTood57, flower pot girl, Different Child, Carbon65, Brook-Lucas-Fan-23, KlaineLuneville, Stranger on the Bus and xXLittle Rose AngelXx. You guys mean the WORLD to me :D**

**Said it before, said it again, just because I feel obliged to now with everything I post... if you guys ever need anyone at all to talk to, or want to vent, or anything - I'm always around. My Ask on Tumblr is open, anon or not, or you can PM me here. Whatever it is - you're never alone.**

**And, because I'm in a particularly giving mood, you can also have a disclaimer: I''m not RIB or Fox. I don't own Glee. I think this story kinda proves why. Also, because my Microbiology degree has made me rather amused at things like Mercedes recovering from food poisoning in like 2 hours... with STEROIDS. *claps***

**Yes, I'm obnoxious.**

**Oh! And, I am one exam down, 2 to go and one essay! Getting there! Woohoo!**

**Like it? Hate it? Want my writing to be like CD62L in activated lymphocytes (that is, downregulated)? Please let me know!**

**... Guess what exam I have on Friday? :P**

**Anyhoo... Love you all!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	47. Rest Your Head Upon the Clover

"Oh! Great Odin's raven!"

"Hey mate, you doing alright in there?" Jeff was worried… but he couldn't completely hold back the laughter in his voice. Wes had disappeared to get changed in the bathroom, but something obviously wasn't working out. Though, unsurprisingly, their leader was too stubborn to ask for help. So instead, Jeff and Nick were pacing outside the cubicle, trying not to crack up with each increasingly ridiculous expletive issued from behind the door.

"By the hair of Samson!" There was a loud bang and the door shook as it was forcefully struck in annoyance by some part of Wes' anatomy, then a small, muffled, "Oww…"

"Should we help him?" Nick bit his lip. "Wes… what's going on?"

"I can't… get… this freaking button done," came the panting response. "I'm fine."

Jeff just shook his head. "If he needs a hand, he'll ask for it." He banged on the door. "Won't he, Wes?"

"Hot pot of coffee!" There was a moment's silence. But then the cubicle door opened a tiny fraction and Wes peeked his dead eyes around the frame, speaking in a tiny voice, like a small child. "Jeff? Please?"

It was slightly ironic how the tables had turned… Wes was always there for absolutely everyone. It was… kind of nice to know that he was human after all. He'd pushed himself to the limit, talking to people and organising everything and just looking out for them all. Of course, Jeff would prefer his leader to _not_ be awfully ill and with a dislocated shoulder… or a recently reset shoulder… but it was nice to be trusted. It was nice to return the favour for once. "Of course."

* * *

><p>Once inside the cubicle, getting Wes sorted out – changed, that is – had taken no time at all. Wes had picked up all sorts of tricks from his job as a disability support worker, so it was pretty easy to step Jeff through them all. He'd actually done an amazing job, considering… There was a brief moment when he'd rotated his arm a little too far and had to bite his lip to stop any tears falling, and a little bit of a struggle with the button on his jeans… Well, Jeff was a guy, and still not overly confident with his sexuality, and if you're not used to helping people, being in that sort of situation <em>must<em> have been pretty awkward… but he trusted him. Jeff was… well, not quite a mini-Wes. But he was trained in first aid, he had similar aspirations, he had a similar outlook as well, and just wanted to help…

But now, trusting Jeff was biting him on the bum.

"Come on, Wes," the blonde insisted. "People don't just suddenly collapse if they've only been sick for a few hours."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he sniffed, feigning innocence.

"You're too bloody happy when you're sick," Jeff said, half-accusingly. "I know you always feel you have to be there for everyone, but you just… you take it too far. You can't be there for us if you're not willing to look after yourself in the process. I mean, how exactly is that setting a good example?"

"Yeah, like you can talk," Wes snapped. Shit. He didn't mean to. He was sick and tired and irritated and he never had the tightest control over his temper at the best of times…

But Jeff, rather than jumping back, just nodded. "You're right. I can't. But you're the one in the wheelchair, not me."

Well, he did have a point. Though, honestly, he doubted that next time around that he would do anything differently. He just built everything up to a point, and then his body shut down for a few days. No big deal. Everyone got sick. Better to do that than to say no to one of his boys. They needed him. And he… well, he needed them needing him.

"So, I'm gonna ask again: how long have you been sick for?"

"A few days…" Wes flushed. Embarrassment this time though, rather than fever. He hoped…

"Wes…" Jeff sighed. "You've _got_ to stop doing this. You have to let us help you."

"It's… not that simple, Jeff."

"How? What's so difficult about it?"

"Jeff, I just…" Breathe. He could feel his temper swelling again. "There are so MANY of you. Do you know how many people look up to me? Who come to me for help? I _have_ to be there. Jeff, these people _rely_ on me. I can't just send them away because I have a little homework to do. I... I have to show them the same compassion that was shown me."

The blonde was shaking his head. "You're unbelievable. Are you really that self-destructive?"

"NO." Wes bit his lip, breathing heavily. He'd already punched the wall… he didn't want the next thing to hit his fist be flesh. He was _past_ that stage, Goddammit. He didn't need the explosion any more than he did the self-harm. "I'm. Not. Self. Destructive." He raised a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to hold everything back… or stop himself bursting. At least he could still realise that would be bad – though that knowledge didn't stop the horrible churning and surging and burning in his stomach… "Jeff. You've come for me to help. You were _easy_ to deal with, relatively. These guys, they all have such huge chips on their shoulders or boulders on their chests, and I'm the one that they trust. I have to be there for them. I can't let them down. Who knows what the consequences of that would be?"

Jeff went to put a hand on his shoulder, but seemed to realise how volatile he was and changed direction last minute. "There are others here. We can help too. I'm not saying you're not brilliant at everything, or that what we'd do would be anything like you… but we can keep an eye out on people too. There is definitely something about you, Wes, that just screams compassion and understanding… but we can give that a go too."

"You know why I have that spare bed?" Wes asked, breathing slowly, his anger immediately morphing into the hurt from which it always stemmed. "Because I know how important it is to have someone there. What it's like to have absolutely no one out there care for you. Jeff – you, Blaine, and perhaps Trent are probably the closest to this. But I have _no one_ there. No family 13,000 miles away. All I have is you guys. And… you all anchor me. You remind me what it's like to be needed. To care for someone. You aren't _like_ my family – you _are_ it. I _know_ what it's like to feel completely, utterly and hopelessly alone."

Jeff stared at him, watching. Well, he wasn't angry any more. There was always that…

"You know Dalton used to be an orphanage, right?" Wes coughed as his voice began cracking constantly, worsened by his emotion. "John and Mary – "

"John and Mary Dalton, rich philanthropists, ended up with a huge block of land in Ohio in the early 1900's," Jeff took over. "They took in a few orphan boys, and decided that there were so many out there, that they'd start a home. But not just a home, where people just came and ate and drank and sat round feeling sorry for themselves. Mary wanted them to feel comfortable. She wanted them to have a future for themselves. And her passion was teaching. So it became a school.

"Over time, they took on more and more people, more and more staff. Everyone seemed happy. John and Mary passed away, and the home was taken over by their children. But, over the years, it became obvious there were so many more people they could help. Victims of abuse, children with nowhere else to go… Eventually, it dropped the title of 'orphanage' and became 'Dalton Academy'. It takes on boys from all walks of life, catering particularly to sufferers of violence in any form, and survives mainly on the generous donations of alumni."

Wes nodded. "That's what makes the school what it is today. It still has that original feeling. Virtually all of us know what it's like to be abused, to be bullied, to be alone…. That's why we connect the way we do. Why we all feel like a family.

"I first came to Dalton when I was maybe 10… After my parents died, I lived with my obaa-chan, but she… she got sick and thought it would be better to get me settled. So I came to Dalton.

"I can understand now why she did it, but at the time… all I could think of was that I'd done something wrong, that I was being punished, that she… that she didn't want me anymore.

"My first year there was… horrible. I was sick almost constantly because I was under such stress. That's why I'm a year older than everyone else… I wasn't doing well at school, I wasn't doing well with my own life… There's a reason why I can connect so well with people with depressive issues…" He traced a scar on his leg, under his jeans, from knee to hip… But he wouldn't tell Jeff about that. He didn't need to know.

"But there was a boy here, a senior, called Chris. He was similar to me – his parents had been in New York that day, touring… they were in the towers when they came down… So he knew what I was going through.

"I used to watch The Warblers practice when I was in the junior school. Even then, music was an escape for me… And they let me watch them. Now, you know me. I don't need a lot of sleep – there's some genetic thing that means I only need maybe 4 or 5 hours. But back then, I had terrible insomnia. I was terrified of sleeping.

"And so, I was watching a rehearsal one day on the couch, and I fell asleep. Sort of. Well, yes, I did sleep. But I… I had a night terror. They weren't uncommon for me back then. But I don't think they would have known what to do, when this little twelve year old boy started screaming and crying and probably running through the room, looking like he was awake, but still dreaming, unable to be roused…

"Chris had a little sister back home, who did the same thing. He came and held onto me, stopped me hurting myself or anyone else. When my brain had woken up, he led my upstairs to his room – the one I live in now, actually – and just talked to me. Told me about himself, his sister, his parents. And I talked to him. He made me sleep there for… at least a term. Made sure that I ate, that I slept, that I didn't do anything stupid…

"He… Basically, without him, I don't think I'd be here today. He was my big brother. He looked after me. Kept me safe. Kept me _alive_. So," his voice finally gave out completely with his last expulsion of emotion.

"So you feel like ya have to do the same for everyone else." Jeff was sitting backwards on the wheelie chair, arms crossed over the top, chin buried in the niche they created, eyes looking into his… But it wasn't uncomfortable. Just like he was listening. Like he cared. Like he was trying to understand.

Wes nodded. Wow… That felt… strange. He hadn't really told anyone that before… not even Blaine or David. He supposed it was due to tiredness… Or maybe Jeff. Jeff had as close to gone parents as you could possibly get. And then there was the trusting Flick thing last night… Maybe he _could_ do this sometimes. He knew each of them so intimately, knew all their scars, physical and mental. Knew all their allergies, their weird medical conditions, their favourite foods and their annoying habits. Knew their strengths, their weaknesses, their downfalls and their incredible rise to the top again. And, Jeff… Well, Jeff was now hugging _him_, telling _him_ it would all be okay, that he wasn't a failure, that he hadn't let anyone down… That he didn't have to redeem himself for anything…

"Look, Wes," Jeff continued, and he allowed his eyes to snap back up into his. "It's… We all appreciate everything you do for us, and we probably don't say so nearly often enough." Wes blinked, swallowing… He was starting to get really tired again… "You just… You have to trust _us_, okay? We know you're human. I'm going to repeat your words back to you – you aren't a robot. No one expects you to be. So you have to stop that ridiculous expectation of yourself."

Wes nodded. "Thanks. I'll try."

"I know you will. For a week. But, hey. You told me this. And you know that I'm here for you too – as are Nick and David and Blaine and, well, all of the Warblers." He pushed the chair over to Wes, patting the seat. "But we've been in here fifteen minutes and we're probably worrying dear Nicholas. You okay to go back to the room and get out of here?"

He nodded again, standing up… and promptly sitting back down as he felt the blood drain away from his head, his vision starting to blur and sharpen at the same time, creeping inwards at the edges…

"Wes…?" Jeff had an arm around him in an instant. "You okay?"

He shut his eyes, blocking out the image of the blonde swimming in and out of focus. "Dizzy. Tired."

"Okay. Just breathe." Jeff now had his other hand around Wes' head, helping stabilising it, stabilising him… An odd movement, perhaps, but Wes still appreciated it. He didn't want to lie back against the toilet. And Jeff was warm and soft…

"I… I want to go back now. I want to go home."

"Rightio." The hand was back, around his back, near his shoulder but not quite under it. "On three, we'll stand and you can sit again. One… Two… Three." They stood up carefully, Wes letting his head droop to the side, completely following Jeff. He just wanted to sit down and let the vertigo pass… "Okay. Are you alright if we start moving now?"

Wes gave the thumbs up sign, too cautious to risk nodding his head, and Jeff pushed him out, grabbing Nick on the way. He closed his eyes again, leaning back, letting himself become almost passive. He really wanted to go to sleep. He just had to say goodbye to Blaine and sign himself out and he could go.

Nick and Jeff were talking quietly as they walked along. One of them had a hand on his arm – probably Jeff – the other one rubbing his back, his neck, his temples… He hadn't really let anyone take care of him for such a long time. He'd always been the one looking after everyone else. Which he enjoyed doing… That was what families did. They looked after each other. He liked being there for people. He liked taking care of them, feeling trusted, feeling needed. Especially if it was med-related, because that was just what he pictured himself doing. He liked driving Blaine or Trent to all their hospital appointments. He liked listening to people, trying to help them… Despite what many professed, he wasn't a true altruist. It just so happened that he got such joy from helping people…

Although it _was_ nice to have that returned to him… Not so much the being sick part. That was awkward. But he supposed he had to have that weakness sometime… which was scary. But these guys weren't abandoning him, looking down on him. They were stepping up. He was proud of them. And he was warm and safe with them, like their love was just covering him like a baby blanket, tucked perfectly around his body, tight enough so that he had a constant pressure but not so tight his movement was completely restricted. It was, at the risk of repetition, safe. Familiar.

But they were only halfway back when a terrified sob snapped his eyes open, instantly stealing that security.

It wasn't Blaine. It was very feminine, very old. And the cry was… very Japanese. Looking out, he could see the source – a tiny Asian woman in a bed by the end of the hall, a doctor standing near her with what would have been an IV. But they probably hadn't explained very much to her, or tried to connect with her…

"No. Engrish no good. _Wakarimasen_."

… That was the words his grandmother had used on the phone that time. He blinked, forcing away those images… his obaa-chan crying, the towers, her lying in a hospital bed, white coats, flowers, burnt toast and cold incense… Flickering, wasting…

"Jeff. Take me to the woman. Please."

She was just lying there, trying to push the doctor away. "_Nani o shiteiru no? Wakarimasen. Tasukete! Tasukete!_" He couldn't remember a whole lot of Japanese… He hadn't spoken it in years… But that was definitely a cry for help.

"Jeff. She doesn't know what's going on. She doesn't understand; she wants to know what they are doing. She wants help. Please. Trust me. I can talk to her."

"_Acchi ni ike! Yamero yo! Tasukete!_" She held her arms close to her, looking fearfully at the needle.

"Jeff. Nick. If you don't push me there, I am going to get up and walk and will probably end up collapsing. Please. Take me over to her. Now."

Nick shook his head, but shrugged. They pushed him over to the bed.

"I'm Wes, I speak a little Japanese," he spoke quickly to the doctor. "Please, let me talk to her. She might calm down a little and make it easier for you."

The doctor bit his lip, like he was considering. Yeah, sure, he was a stranger, but surely some random talking to her would be better than attacking her with a needle? But he appeared to have a similar thought and slowly nodded.

"Thank you." Wes turned back around to the woman. "_Sumimasen. Ohaiyo gozaimasu. Hajimemashite. Watishi wa _Wes_ desu. Douzo yoroshiku._"

She looked at him, eyes huge, breathing rapidly. "_Hajimemashite. Watashi wa _Sayuri_ desu. Douzo yoroshiku_."

So, her name was Sayuri. And she knew who he was. It was strange… The language still felt too formal rolling off his tongue… but he couldn't offend her. "_Nagai nihongo no hanashi o shite imasen. Watashi no nihongo wa heta desu_," he apologised, telling her he hadn't spoken in a while, that his Japanese would not be very good… probably in terrible, though understandable, Japanese…

But she seemed to relax. Whether it was just having someone to understand her, or someone who just wasn't staring at her in a lab coat, he didn't know… He blundered his way through somehow, only tripping a little bit. He explained what was happening, that the doctor was giving her fluids and medicine to help her get better, what they thought was wrong with her… He explained to the doctor that she was terrified of needles, and even held her hand as it went in.

"_Arigatou gozaimashita_," she finally whispered to him. _Thank you for what you did_.

"_Dou itashimashite_," he responded, his final burst of energy falling out of him, the adrenaline draining away… His final spoon being passed to her, as Blaine might say. But it was totally worth it. She was so much like his obaa-chan. He hated to think of anyone treated like that, so scared and alone – let alone a member of his family.

But now, as Nick wheeled him the final hundred yards or so back to his bed, he was completely drained. Damn it. He really wanted to try being better, too…

"That was… nice of you," Flick said from the doorway, watching them. She handed Wes a small ice cream. "You look dead, sweetie. Say goodbye to Blaine, eat your ice cream, and go to sleep. I've picked up Valium for you – you might not need it too long, but I'd recommend using it for 4 or 5 days, alright? Then you can use the codeine – you've got a script for it." She gave it to Nick, muttering something to them under her breath. "We'll give you a few minutes."

"Thanks. But you can stay." He pushed himself forwards with his feet, slowly, inch by inch, over to the bed. When he finally reached it, he grabbed Blaine's hand in his, giving it a squeeze. "Blaine. I know you're going to be fine. You'll wake up wondering where the hell we've all gone and probably yell at us. Or set Maegan on us. I have to go back home, so I'll see you in a few days. Enjoy all the ice cream and toast and cute murses that'll end up fawning over you when you get your voice back!"

Flick grinned, helping him into the proper wheelchair and pushing him outside. Then, his eyes were closed and the next instant he was bundled into the back seat of Blaine's car, Kurt stroking his head as he lay sideways, Nick driving. Or, more correctly, Nick pulling Dalton's large iron-wrought gates.

Jeff glanced around, finding him awake, giving him a tiny smile. "Glad to be home?" he whispered.

Wes smiled, his eyes fluttering shut again. "It's clichéd, but yes," he yawned. "There really is no place like home."

* * *

><p><strong>Good morning! :D<strong>

**This chapter has been giving me SO much grief! I don't think I accomplished very much at all that I wanted to in this. But Wes just sorta broke down, and he has been fairly one-dimensional lately, and I didn't have the heart to tell him to shut up, so... it's just been pushed back a chapter. Again.**

***shakes head***

**Okay, with the Japanese, I only studied for 4 years and I haven't spoken or looked at it for about 6 years. Wow... So if you spot mistakes, please, please, please let me know. As for what it said... 'I don't understand.' 'What are you doing? I don't understand. Help me! Help me!' 'Go away! Stop it! Help me!' 'Excuse me. Good morning. Hi. My name is Wes. It's a pleasure to meet you.' 'Hi. My name is Sayuri. It's a pleasure to meet you.' 'I haven't spoken Japanese for a long time. My Japanese is not very good.' 'Thank you (past tense).' 'No worries.'**

**Thank you soooooooo much to everyone that's read and reviewed and subscribed and favourited and chatted with me. You guys are just wonderful! I can't believe that this is nearly finished... Shout-outs to browneyes12, Rysohl, Brook-Lucas-Fan-23, Carbon65, Different Child, KlaineLuneville, Stranger on the Bus, AddiTood87, flower pot girl, xXLittle Rose AngelXx... I think that's everyone!**

**Alright, I gotta run to work.**

**Also, just because I always say it - if you ever need to chat with anyone for any reason, I'm always around. You can PM me or hit my Ask on Tumblr any time. You don't need to be alone. :-)**

**Okay. Leaving now.**

**Like it? Hate it? Want me to turn into an ice block in the 12 degree (that's Celcius) weather that we're having? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	48. Carry Me Home Tonight

"Blaine… Blaine…"

* * *

><p>"Portal…"<p>

"Help to lock it off…"

* * *

><p>"Poor bastard."<p>

"What happened?"

"Allergic reaction… penicillin… Tegaderm…"

* * *

><p><em>The voices were so far away. They were coming from underwater. But he wasn't wet. What was going on?<em>

* * *

><p>"Cute murses…"<p>

"Take care, Blaine."

"See ya soon!"

"I love you…"

* * *

><p><em>The voices were music. Solid blocks of colour, like coloured oil, that he watched dripping out of a tap, slowly at first, building up, curving round… dropping into water, holding for awhile, then dispersing, leaving the water stained, contaminated… Or was the water diluting the colour?<em>

_They were all different colours. One was a green, almost an aqua – that was Wes. It was bright and happy, and healthy and comforting… Wes was always there for him._

_One was a purple. That was his sister. Purple was Maegan's favourite colour. It dropped straight on top of the aqua, hanging there, clinging to it like she did to David the first time they met… and they'd been inseperable ever since. Just like the purple and aqua meshed together, forced together by the water and clinging together to escape the fear and judgement from the so-called puritans._

_There were rows and rows of coloured oils. For everyone he'd ever met. For Wes and David and Nick and Jeff and Trent and Thad and Dylan and Callum and all the Warblers and all his teachers and his parents and his sisters and the New Directions. There were colours for all his memories, for all the songs he knew, for the ones he'd written. They all rose up into the air, flying around like the keys in Harry Potter – the strangest butterflies he'd ever seen – and upended themselves into the surf flowing around his feet._

_And then the colours drew back, the invisible hand shaping and painting and molding like one would clay in a pottery class, forming something. At first it was like one of those images that you had to go cross-eyed at and stare through and behind it and NOT look at it to see the picture. But then it started sharpening, becoming more defined, the colours obviously separating._

_It was a person. The person sat up, then rose to his feet._

_It was Kurt._

_He was crying._

* * *

><p>"What the <em>hell<em> happened to him? Why was I not called until 8 am this morning?"

"He _is_ emancipated. He came in here with a friend. He requested that we did not call you. And, moreso, we were expecting to discharge him this morning. We were under no legal obligation to call you."

"But I'm his _sister_." The voice was a furious whisper. "And he's 17. He's a child."

"Not legally, no." He could hear the second voice starting to lose patience. There was something more restrained… a hissing, perhaps, or maybe that odd sound words take on when formed around clenched teeth and unmoving lips. Like a ventriloquist's lisp.

"Whatever." There was a slight thud, like a body dropping into a chair. It was at this moment Blaine realised he was waking up. Again. "I'm here. You gonna tell me what happened to him? Or are you too incompetent for even that?"

Blaine cringed. But he didn't want to open his eyes. That was Maegan. And she was _pissed_.

"He has tonsillitis. He picked up the wrong syringes and overdosed on his insulin, which was what brought him here. We fixed that, but he had a severe allergic reaction, and he's currently recovering from that."

"He… overdosed. And, an allergy? Jesus Christ. What the hell did you do to him?"

"We put him on a dextrose drip, and – "

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Shut up. Talk about missing the point…" She sighed. "Just… is he going to be alright?"

"Yes." The voice of what must have been a doctor sounded remarkably tight-lipped. "We're testing his blood to determine the allergen. We'll keep him another 24 hours of observation, but assuming no complications, you can take him home then."

"Thank you." Blaine could vaguely recognise a pressure… skin… on his hand. There was heavy breathing, like someone had just finished a marathon.

Then it was all quiet.

* * *

><p><em>There was white. White everywhere. It was so clichéd. But he wasn't claustrophobic. He wasn't scared. It was just… serene. Peaceful. Pure.<em>

_White._

_And in the middle of the white sat a piano._

_He didn't know whether to trust the piano. It was just there, all black and white and three-dimensional. He didn't know how long it had been there, or how long it would remain. He didn't know if it was in tune. He didn't know what power it held, what visions it would provide…_

"_Blaine…"_

_It spoke to him._

_He looked down at his hands. He had on a pair of deep blue woollen fingerless gloves. They were warm and comfortable. He wondered about his clothes too, but figured he could catch his reflection in the piano._

_It was snowing._

_There was a bench. It was at the exact right distance from the piano. The exact right height. How strange._

_He put his fingers on the keys, feeling how smooth they were. Then he began to play._

_It was time._

_He was synaesthesia._

_He could smell bread baking. It must have been David's, because it had a different smell – it was sweet and a little spicy and pumpkin-y for flavour and more soda-y because it was gluten-free and the boy was terrified to touch yeast and accidentally end up poisoning Nick. And as he played, his life played before him, on the walls. At least, he thought they were walls. He couldn't tell because everything was white and there were no dimensions._

_He looked up into his reflection on the piano's surface, so smooth and shiny and perfect it had turned into a mirror. He was dressed in a black suit, with a top hat and tails and a black tie. And he looked… sad…_

_He wanted to stop playing. But his hands were still moving._

_His friends were on the wall. Jeff was grinning at him, holding out a teaspoon of Vegemite and taking a bite of a thin bit of blackened bread. Nick was there too, an arm around Jeff, smiling. David had on a white chef's hat, cutting into a tray of fudge. Wes was singing into his gavel. Thad was in the Sujud position, praying. Trent was wiggling his eyebrows at him and snapping a finger, before bursting into a fit of laughter._

_He wanted to join them._

_Then they all came together, and out walked Kurt._

"_Blaine…"_

"_I'm sorry, Kurt."_

"_Blaine…"_

_Kurt was crying again. He didn't want to hurt him._

_It was the music. The music was causing the pain. He wanted to stop it. He wanted to stop the misery._

_He wanted to stop the music._

_But he couldn't._

_A tear splashed onto his hand, and then another. They kept falling, spewing out, all warm, such a contrast to the ice in his dead heart. One fell onto the ebony of the G# key and shattered, turning to ice and salt._

"_Blaine… Stop…"_

"_I can't…" He cried. "I can't, I can't. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."_

"_Blaine. You need to wake up."_

_His hands kept moving._

"_You need to let go, Blaine."_

_Chromatics, over and over and over. Clashing discords. MAKE IT STOP._

"_Let go of the darkness. Move into the light."_

"_I can't."_

"_Yes, Blaine." Kurt put a hand on his cheek. "You can. Stop playing."_

_His hands fell by his sides limply, his left hand burning._

"_It's time to wake up."_

"_I can't leave you."_

_The music still played, a ghost sitting where he was before, invisible hands with invisible emotions._

"_Goodbye, Blaine."_

"_I love you."_

"_It's time to wake up…"_

* * *

><p>When he woke up, there were tears on his face and a hand in his hand.<p>

"Hi, Blaine," Maegan smiled at him. "Welcome back to the living."

He groaned, a hand flying to his throat… It was really sore and felt kinda swollen and tired… "Hi," he whispered, returning the smile, though with much less enthusiasm. "What are you doing here?"

"Shhhhh." She brushed back a few curls from his forehead and smoothed out his blankets. It was strange… Sure, she was older. But Blaine had always looked after her. Not the other way round.

"I missed you…"

She sniffed. "Missed you too, babe. College is amazing, but nothing can replace my little Blainers…" She squeezed his hand. "So, how have you been? How are you feeling?"

He nearly laughed. "You get a call from me in the middle of the night in hysterics, and then find me in hospital, within 48 hours. How do you think?"

"Fair enough."

"What are you doing here?"

She sighed, like answering that would actually cause her pain… "When you had the reaction, they called in your next-of-kin. Which does happen to be me." He watched her biting her lip. There was more she wanted to say… "Why didn't you call me?"

Again, he was close to laughter. Was she honestly upset? "I was so sick, that once they worked out what happened, I fell asleep. I didn't want to worry you. And I knew David would tell you anyway."

"And you figured having my boyfriend tell me that my baby brother is in hospital would be the most diplomatic way to go about that?"

Maegan was the one with the temper. Blaine was the one lacking consequential thinking… Oops… Okay, that made sense.

"Whatever. Point is, I'm here now." She kissed his forehead, carefully avoiding all the tubes around him. "Can I do anything?"

"Just… sit with me. I'm tired. You… you can wait until I get to go home, but, well, it's up to you…"

She really wasn't good at this sort of thing, Blaine decided. He wasn't really either… He could hug people and he could listen to them. And after Trent and Wes, he was getting better at learning how to read and understand and comfort. But he'd always looked after Maegan. He'd grown up too quickly, to protect her. And she was still the small, vulnerable, snarky child that took everything for granted.

Okay, that was selfish and unfair. Her heart was in the right place. She tried. She just… didn't quite have all the people skills that Blaine was blessed with. But she was still a brilliant person. She was his sister. And he loved her.

"Shove, love," she told him suddenly, like her mind was in a similar place. Curious, he shifted over, closer to the wall… at which point she climbed in next to him, curling over in his arms, slipping underneath the IV tubing.

Okay. Maybe she was a little better than he thought. She'd placed herself so that he could still wrap his arms around her – like he was still protecting her, like he was meant to do. But she was still there to provide warmth and security… She was here. There was still so much left unsaid, so much that they would have to discuss.

But she was still here. He could close his eyes, his arms wrapped around her, and be comforted by the familiarity of the action, in such a strange and horrible environment.

He supposed this was what home felt like.

* * *

><p><strong>Hey guys!<strong>

**Okay. A heap of apologies. I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to update. I worked a 73 hour fortnight, and I'm still working. I've also been sick lately, and my Muse is taking me in very strange directions. I haven't forgotten about you, or about TSAB. It's just not been easy to write for it. And I do apologise for that.**

**I'm also sorry for this chapter... Blaine has not been kind to me. He didn't want to be written... I think because he senses how close this is to the end. I'm thinking there'll be another 2-3 chapters... and hopefully it'll all go to plan. So... this sort of feels like a cop-out. But, I needed to post something and write something, and have something to work off later. Hopefully tomorrow - I've a cruisey shift so I'll at least get some writing there. But I need something to push me to work. And this is it. But, like I said, it does feel like a cop-out - and Maegan didn't want to be written - and I'm sorry for that.**

**But I'll do my best to have some better quality stuff up for you soon! And hopefully with less rambly-dreaminess :P**

**Okay. I'mma run away because I'm exhausted and work and stuff. But if enough of you bug me - or even prompt, if you want, if there's anything in this you desperately want to see (which I doubt...), then let me know - and I'll try my absolute hardest to get an update A LOT SOONER than this one!**

**Thanks to my amazing readers/favouriters/subscribers/reviewers. Thank you so much for still sticking with me! Shout outs to browneyes12 (who you should all thank for prompting me to actually get my arse back into gear!), Eraman, the amazing anon (and I apologise so much for your sandwich. You'll have to let me make you another one!), Stranger on the Bus, Carbon65, AddiTood57 and Rysohl... Hope I got you all there!**

**As always, if you guys ever need anything at all, be that someone to talk to or vent or you're just plain bored - I'm always around! You can PM me, or hit up my Ask on Tumblr :-)**

**Like it? (dear God, come yell at me for this). Hate it? Want my client tomorrow to run over me in our usual game of Chicken? Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	49. Miles of Clouded Hell

"So, sign these for us, and you can go home."

The white pad in front of him. Release forms. He scrawled messily, ungratefully, rapidly – thirsting to be let out. To go home.

Home. Where his heart was. Where Kurt was. Kurt and Wes and David and Jeff and Nick and Trent and Thad and Callum and, hell, even Andrew. Where he'd never be a stranger, where he'd never be alone. Where he was loved and accepted. Where he was safe.

It had been an interesting week, Blaine decided. Yes, interesting. That was probably the best way of putting it. Not the best week in the world – but, then again, he couldn't call it the worst.

Though it was pretty terrible. He'd put his heart on the line – and again have it returned to him in an envelope to contain it, its pieces smashed and flaked and slivered like almonds. But he'd fucked up so terribly that even Wes and David were a little hesitant to help him. He'd then confessed absolutely everything to Kurt – including the stuff he didn't know himself, like the fact that he might have the teensiest trace of feelings for him… okay, a lot of really strong feelings for him… He'd also gotten sick, overdosed on insulin, ended up in hospital _again_, and then had the antibiotics – his own _treatment_ – nearly kill him.

So, all in all, interesting.

Sometime in the last… however long it was, because the endless white and beeping of the hospital made keeping track of time impossible… Maegan had fallen asleep in his arms. She'd probably been up all night partying, and then drove straight up to Ohio when she got the call. Thank God she only lived in Ann Arbor, so it would only be a couple of hours… But it was just like absolutely everything was meshing together. The good and the bad. Family and friends. Work and play.

Was it a sign? Perhaps. But what would it be a sign of?

The doctors had come and gone, testing his blood sugar, adjusting his IV rate, counting his carbohydrates, drawing up his insulin. "We need to be completely sure," they'd said. Like he was a child. "We can't take the risk." So condescending. Like he'd asked for this. Like he was incapable of looking after himself. Like the last few years of his life had amounted to absolutely nothing.

… But, what had they amounted to? What had he accomplished? Landing himself in hospital? Again? With no one around him? He hadn't… done anything. He'd ran away from high school. He'd ran away from his family. Now, he was planning to run away from Kurt.

Failure. That's what he was. That's all he was… and all he'd ever amount to be.

All he deserved to be.

A tear ran down his cheek. And he let it. Relished it, even. He was just… so tired of fighting, every single day. And, what was all the fighting for? What difference did it make? It just… drained him. Made him even more tired. Made things even more difficult to handle.

But… he couldn't not fight, either. He couldn't just give in… That would bring even more unimaginable pain.

The salt trekked down his face, each tear laying down a new layer of silt, heavy with the burden of emotion. One by one, then many, then his cheeks were wet, and his pillow, and his hair, and his hands. His whole body. Shaking, quaking, bursting, the tears not fast enough, his body not strong enough to allow the explosion.

He cried.

Maegan sat up suddenly as a tear dropped onto her hand. "Blaine…"

Damn it.

"Blaine… We need to talk, don't we?"

He shook his head… he didn't want to get hysterical for God knows what time they were up to in the last few days.

"It's… it's okay, sweetie. You're okay. I'm here…"

"Don't leave me." He scrabbled for her, clawed at her, like a cat, making its nest, trying to make itself comfortable.

"I'm not going anywhere," she reassured him.

"Don't die."

"What?" Maegan blinked down at him, all deep brown eyes and curly eyelashes. "I should be saying that to _you_. You're the one in the hospital. You're the one that nearly died… how many times this week?"

"I don't want to die…"

He didn't even know what was coming out of his mouth. But… that realisation almost shocked him. Usually he just… couldn't give a crap. He… was a shell. His emotions just… didn't matter. They got locked away, like the mentally disabled in the 50's. His life meant very little to him. But the fact that he didn't want to lose it? Well, that was surprising.

"I… I really screwed up."

"It's okay, Blaine. It's okay."

"I couldn't look after you I can't do anything right and Kurt hates me and well he doesn't yet but he will and when he does Wes will hate me and you hate me and Sarah probably hates me for letting her die and Idon'tknowwhattodohelpmeMaeganwha tdoIdo?"

All in one breath.

Silence.

"You never give up," she told him firmly, tears of her own starting to form. "You get yourself better, you come home with me for a couple of days, and then you go back to school. You make things right with Kurt. You learn to forgive yourself for your past. But, promise me, Blaine."

"Promise what?"

Brown met brown. Souls united. "Promise me you won't give up."

In any other circumstance, he might have laughed at how overly dramatic their life, this scene was. How well it would accompany a release from hospital. But, Blaine was too drained. "I won't give up."

"Love you, Blainers."

"Love you, Maegs."

"Let's go home."

And once again, with no idea how he'd even managed to be reassured, for the last time under the glaring fluorescence before the sun streaming through the windows of Maegan's car… Blaine fell asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>Hiiiiiiiiiiii guys...<strong>

**Okay. Huge massive apologies. I haven't forgotten about this, I promise. Pretty much... what happened? I... failed a couple of subjects last semester, and basically had my own mini breakdown. Meaning I've been studying my arse off. I haven't been on Facebook, I've only been checking my inbox on Tumblr... Not very much at all has been happening in terms of online life. Also because my wrist started playing up again, which means that even something small like typing can be really painful. Soooooo many excuses...**

**But, I'm back. I have my midsemester break right now... I'm thinking one last chapter of this - and possibly the epilogue, though that might just get squished into the last chapter, I'm not sure. It's... kinda sad to think of this ending.**

**I mean... I started writing this, thinking that I'd get maybe 3 reviews, and that everyone would give up on it. Instead, I'm virtually at 350, I've had an influx of love from so many people... I've met some amazing friends out there - and I know there are more that I don't really talk to either. And, I think, I've been able to help some of you guys out too. It's been... incredible. And I'm so grateful to every single person that has read this, that has commented, that has come and spoken to me... Whenever I've updated, and I find comments in my inbox, it really makes my day.**

**So, thank you all so much.**

**I still, rather unfortunately, don't own Glee - though apparently the Warblers are coming back, so I'm going to hope that we've all had some influence on RIB! WE'VE GOT THE POWER (POWER!) *cue fire hydrant exploding***

**Now, if you guys still need me - I am most definitely around. I might not be as present as I used to be, but I still check my inbox. If you ever need someone to talk to - I'm still here. I still want to help. You're always more than welcome to PM me here, or to hit up my Ask over on pi-on-a-skateboard . tumblr . com.**

**Okay. One more chapter. And... the TSAB journey will be over. But, I will definitely keep writing! Maybe not updating as often as I'd like to, but there'll still be stuff happening.**

**I love each and every one of you. Thank you thank you thank you.**

**And... shout-out time! Shout-outs to: Eraman, browneyes12, Different Child, Anon again (LOVE the name :P and... hopefully my grammar is still up to scratch. Ignoring all the paperclip man screaming FRAGMENT CONSIDER REVISING at me. Stupid Paperclip Man. Doesn't understand stream-of-consciousness writing. YOU ARE SILLY PAPERCLIP MAN!), xXLittle Rose AngelXx, the guest that couldn't wait (and my apologies for making you do just that...), puppypersonLOTR107 (and YAY for physics and HERMIONE CAN'T DRAW HERMIONE CAN'T DRAW HERMIONE CANNOT DRAW...), Mm. Mystery (woohoo! Hope it's... cute? enough for you still...) and the guest that likes me writing Wes - and, trust me, I will definitely be writing more of him in the future! :D**

**Okay. Think I'm good for the time being.**

**Like it? Hate it? Want the boogeyman to attack me in my sleep because I cleaned my room and there's nowhere for him to hide? (Though, that does mean that I won't be available for your... er... pleasure, Mr Boogeyman. Please don't do that. I enjoy your company too much.) Please let me know!**

**Keep smiling! :D**


	50. We've All Got Holes But We Carry On

Two days was really all Wes had needed for him to start finding his feet. Or, well… perhaps that might be a little generous of a description, considering his current state, lying hunched over himself in an armchair in the choir room, shivering in pain, a mug of raspberry leaf tea to his right and a hot water bottle – both courtesy of Nick – squished between his cramping stomach and his sling. But nevertheless, he was still present in his highly-drugged-out state, about to call to order yet another emergency Warbler meeting.

"Whoa!" Callum grinned down at his old roommate, glancing at the tea and water bottle. "You on your period, Wes?"

The Asian cracked an eye open. "Is my laptop slowly dying from abuse of online retail therapy? Is everyone cowering in fear of me? Am I surrounded by mounds of chocolate?"

… Well, the Valium said that made sense in his mind.

Callum shook his head. "No…"

"Do you see me asking for chocolate?"

"No…"

"So, you have a girlfriend – by deduction, I can't have my period because of the lack of PMS, chocolate and shopping. Also, the antibiotics currently have me shitting through a sieve, so I doubt very much that I'll be asking for chocolate for a loooooong time."

Well… at least he'd probably end up being a happy drunk… even if a rather-prone-to-oversharing one.

David swatted him gently on the hand as the few core boys surrounding them laughed and/or looked repulsed. "Wes? You're doing it again."

"What, snoring? I'm not asleep! At least… I don't think I am… because this is a pretty fucked up dream if I am. I mean… who dreams a completely normal situation? Not me. I'm not normal. And if I'm asleep, that means you are too, and you can't be because you're looking after me." Wes looked down at the boys in a semi-circle by his feet. "Wow, Valium makes me really rambly… I'm going back to sleep. Wake me up when we're all here." And with that, both his eyes fluttered shut again.

He… was sort of grateful, in a strange sort of way. The drugs were… horrible. The Valium made him out of his mind – it exhausted him, depleted him of all sense of control. He couldn't even really control what was coming out of his mouth… and he could barely realise that he was doing and saying a whole lot of things that he wouldn't normally… which was the very reason why he never drank. And probably never would, if being on Valium could be equated to getting drunk. And, then, the antibiotics? Well, he was one of those lucky few with side effects in his gastrointestinal tract. Luckily for him, Nick was particularly well-versed in all forms of gut problems, his Coeliac causing everything from debilitating cramps to the runs. So Wes knew he was being looked after. He was in the best possible hands that anyone could have. Musicians were good at looking after their hands.

Was it a double-edged sword? Well… everything had good and bad. The others were getting a kick from his rambles. And he was enjoying the company… and the excuse to catch up on sleep. And, his throat was finally starting to feel better, so maybe the antibiotics were working?

And, the sickness helped Blaine too. Wes didn't even know how he knew it. But… something… something about him admitting things and looking at things…

Blaine… Blaine had something… something to do… meeting…

A brick wall crashed into Wes' mind and the thoughts finally stopped flying around.

* * *

><p>"Wes? Wes?" There was a hand on his right arm, rubbing up and down. "We're all here now."<p>

"Let him sleep a little longer…" Someone else was saying. "He's so sick… He needs it…"

"But, the sooner we get this over and done with, the sooner we can get him back into bed. I think that's what he needs most," another voice said. "Come on, Wes. Just five minutes…"

Slowly, he opened his eyes, stretching his left arm up to rub the sleep away. He was met with David's face close to his, eyes narrowed a little in concern, face a little paler than normal… but a bright smile nonetheless.

"Good morning!" His best friend said gently. "We're all here now… At least… This is probably the biggest gathering you're going to get tonight…"

Wes yawned, glimpsing down. There were… 11 boys in front of him. Half of them were sick, it seemed… though at least Kurt was here. Kurt would be crucial.

"We already called it to order for you," Thad rasped from the desk. "So you can say what you need and we can all get back to sleep… or homework… or whatever else have you."

"What time is it?" He pushed himself up a little more, hissing a little as his shoulder rubbed over the arm of the chair. He'd had to take his watch off his arm when it got reset, and just hadn't put it back on the other hand yet… though he didn't feel awfully lost without it. Possibly the haze just made him not care for time or other meaningless elements of life... But another yawn pushed more carbon dioxide out of that smog, and he finally felt a little awake. "Thanks. All of you. For being here… for looking after myself and everyone else… We all really appreciate it. Just… make sure you take care of yourselves. Look at me as an example – it's no good looking after everyone if you just end up running yourself to the ground."

Jeff snorted, shaking his head – and Wes could vaguely recall a similar conversation in a bathroom stall.

"But… Why did I call you here?" Wes' eyes sought Kurt this time. "Blaine's coming home tomorrow. And I thought we could… do something for him, because this has been a lot rougher on him than anything else. So… I have an arrangement here that's perfect for him… I know it's a lot to ask, especially with… how many of you can actually sing at the moment?"

All the boys, bar Thad, raised a hand… which made it a little easier.

"I've written who I want to solo above particular parts… This has been floating around for ages, so we finally have the opportunity to give it a go. Try and stick to it, but pick up parts if they aren't covered… and we can sing it for him tomorrow. I think," Wes turned fully to Kurt, "that you'll definitely get the message through to him… and he needs it."

There was the sound of paper rustling as Trent passed around the sheet music… and Wes realised his eyes must have closed again. Completely of their own accord, because he'd already slept til noon today, and then napped after lunch, and he couldn't _possibly_ still be tired…

But then, the next thing he knew, he was in his bed, David curled up on the cot next to his, and the light of the setting sun trickling through the gap in the curtains.

* * *

><p>"Well, Blaine… This is where I'll leave you," Maegan said, knocking quickly on the oak door in front. "I'll just… say hi to David, and then I'll leave you with your friends."<p>

"Sure, sure," he whispered to her. He was still… drained. Better, more stable – both in terms of blood sugar _and_ emotions… but he still had a long way to go. He still didn't have enough spoons to spare on speaking normally… on putting up any front of normalcy. But, he was getting better, and he would continue to do so.

"Alright. Let's go then." She pushed open the door, leading him slowly inside. And finally, he felt like he was home. He was in his choir room, surrounded by most of his family… She led him over to the couch, where Wes was sitting, curled almost like a cat, on one corner, and he sat next to him, hugging him, just so happy that he was back in that place. Back where no one could hurt him… where no one would want to hurt him. With his friends that could protect him, look after him… And now, he might actually appreciate everything a little better, too.

God,it was good to be home.

And then… well, he really shouldn't have been surprised. It _was_ the Warblers, after all. Music was what bound them together. So… them singing really shouldn't have surprised him – especially in the choir room. But, well… He wasn't quite expecting them to all jump into formation, Nick and Jeff in the centre, and for… _that_… to come out.

But, that it did. Nick bit his lip, drew in a breath… as Blaine watched proudly at his first solo.

_Go on and close the curtain_

'_Cos all we need is candle-light,_

_You and me, and a bottle of wine,_

_Going to hold you tonight._

Then Jeff turned, looking dead into Nick's eyes while still glancing over at him and Wes on the couch.

_Well, we know I'm going away_

_And how I wish, I wish it weren't so…_

_So take this wine and drink with me._

_Let's delay our misery._

Huh.

Did they know?

He supposed they must. They were there for that conversation. For how he locked everything away. For how he ran from everything.

On an emotional level, definitely. He always went away. He made friends, sure. He connected with people. But… he hadn't even realised until recently… until Kurt… just how, well, _not there_, he was.

Well, that was all about to change. He'd have to run from Kurt… but only to let him deal with everything. He wasn't going to use Kurt as his bottle of wine. He wasn't going to use anything as his bottle of wine. He wasn't going to use anything to numb the pain… or even, to deal with the symptoms but not the cause, like cough syrup.

He was going to be a man, for once. To face up to himself. To deal with everything. To save himself… so that he could have a future.

But then, he saw Jeff giving him a sly wink, grabbing Nick's hands and coming so close… close enough to kiss, almost… while breaking into the chorus.

_Save tonight_

_And fight the break of dawn._

_Come tomorrow – _

_Tomorrow, I'll be gone._

_Save tonight_

_And fight the break of dawn._

_Come tomorrow – _

_Tomorrow I'll be gone._

Tomorrow, 'he' would be gone. The old Blaine. He wouldn't be around any longer. The one that hid.

Tomorrow, he would be the new Blaine. The improved Blaine. Blaine 2.0.

Nick and Jeff blended back into the group, and Kurt and Trent stepped forward… closer and closer… Blaine's heart sped up in anticipation of the next verse.

_There's a log on the fire_

_And it burns like me for you._

_Tomorrow comes with one desire:_

_To take me away. Oh, it's true._

Kurt smiled almost apologetically… and Blaine hated it. He knew that Kurt… liked him now. He knew that he'd just sort of… abused that. That he was wasting any chance he had. Burning them. Like aliases. Nothing like the log that Kurt felt, smoldering and just… always that constant smoke.

Was the smoke obscuring his vision? So to speak… He wasn't trying to push Kurt away. Or to stop him loving him. But… Kurt deserved to know what he was getting himself into before he made any commitments. And how could Kurt have an idea, if Blaine didn't know himself?

But… they'd get there. Blaine wasn't going to hide any more.

Now it was Trent's turn, who sauntered forward, shrugging… and Blaine somehow knew he was thinking of his father, of all the emotions and, well, pretty much the same struggles he'd had, everything that Blaine and Wes had tried to help him with earlier in the year.

_It ain't easy to say goodbye._

_Darling, please don't start to cry._

'_Cos girl, you know I've got to go,_

_And, Lord, I wish it wasn't so._

Oh, God. He regretted it. He really did. Letting Kurt get as far as he had. Letting the situation progress that far. Jeremiah… ignoring Wes and David at every turn…

Saying, not so much a goodbye, but a wait… was going to be one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do before. But… it had to be done. It was for the best… Wes and Flick, and Maegan, too, had convinced him of that.

… He hoped he didn't make Kurt cry. He couldn't handle that.

… His eyes started misting up, as Kurt and Trent started their chorus.

But, shocking him out of that state, was Wes beside him. There was suddenly a warm hand on his back, and he was filled with… almost a serenity. A tired serenity… but a calmness, nonetheless. It was Wes. Wes' energy. Had to be.

And Wes started to sing on top of the chorus… quietly, reservedly, tentatively, trying just to make his way through and keep his pitch… but that almost made it more beautiful, more haunting, more… certain and meaningful.

_If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman?_

_If I'm alive and well, will you be there, holding my hand?_

_I'll keep you by my side with my superhuman,_

_My kryptonite…_

Of course. Wes _would_ be the one to mash them together.

And Kryptonite… that was a pretty good metaphor. Like… something had been pressing down on him. Something inside him, some self-protective mechanism. But it had gone too far. And it was time to stop.

Wes' hand now on his, too… Everyone looked up to the senior – and he deserved all the respect he got. But… he knew, he understood, the pressures that Blaine was putting himself under. But, with his hand – with all the Warblers' hands – he could make it through.

And he didn't have to pretend to be Superman, either. He could be Blaine. And they would accept him for it. They would be there. They would help him.

David snuck around behind them, putting his head between them, starting his own bridge.

_Tomorrow comes to take me away._

_I wish that I, that I could stay._

_But, girl, you know, I've got to go._

_And Lord, I wish it weren't so._

Okay. He got it.

Blaine settled down, letting more of his weight drop against the right side of Wes' chest, absorbing the warmth and feeling the vibrations of the air in his chest as they sang.

_I took a walk around the world to ease my troubled mind._

_I left my body lying somewhere in the sands of time…_

_Tomorrow, I'll be gone…_

_Tomorrow, I'll be gone…_

And with the final ending chord, the choir was around him, and Maegan – his family in its utter entirety. In a massive group hug… he finally felt a little at peace. He had a long way to go… but despite everything that had happened – despite everything that he'd miss like a hole in his head… he'd carry on.

We got holes in our hearts, holes in our lives – but we carry on.

* * *

><p><strong>Oh. Wow.<strong>

**Um... yes...**

**It's ended. This is... bizarre... especially considering that I originally wrote this chapter... probably 9 months ago. And, I started it around a year ago... It's so strange. I mean... I was actually expecting to have like 3 people read the first chapter and leave it. And instead, I think I've got 75 following it, and over 350 reviews - for 50 chapters, which averages out to be 7 a chapter! It's just... surreal. And I definitely think my writing has improved so much, reading over all this, from the beginning.**

**So, what next? This does have a sequel - Of Red Vines and Glucagon - but I won't be able to keep going for a while. Blaine needs a break. I'm going to try writing a drabble a week, following some prompts - you can read them from my page. I've also got a Sebastian, a Trent, and a Nick story to keep going with. And, I'm planning a collab with a friend. So... I'll be around.**

**Thank you, to everyone reading this. Thank you for sharing this with me. For pushing me through, for talking to me, for making me laugh and cry in your reviews... It means everything to me. And this would not have been finished without each of you!**

**Remember: if you ever need anyone... you are never alone. You are always welcome to PM me here, or to hit up my Ask box, over on Tumblr - pi. on. a. skateboard. tumblr. com. There are lines, there are people. You are NEVER alone. You deserve just as much happiness as anyone else out there.**

**Okay, putting in here - the last lines are paraphrased from Passenger's song, Holes. It's absolutely gorgeous. And the song the Warblers sing, is Save Kryptonite, performed by The Bare Naked Statues - it's a mash of Save Tonight and Kryptonite.**

**I have to give my shout-outs too. I wish I could thank absolutely everyone that's read, but, unfortunately, there are a lot of silent ones out there that I don't know yet. So, instead, I shall thank: AweSoMeLAgain, animelover5000, browneyes12, Brook-Lucas-Fan-23, Different Child, xXLittle Rose AngelXx, Carbon 65 and Eraman. HUGEST ONES EVER to xXLittle Rose Angel, Different Child, Carbon 65, and Stranger on the Bus - who have reviewed every single chapter, usually pretty quickly after it's been released. That someone actually cares that much... well, thank you, in any case.**

**Okay. I gotta get this published because, like always, I'm off to work. What else has changed :P**

**Like it? Hate it? Want my red wrist brace to turn into Red Vines, which I then have to eat, and cause me to go into diabetic coma/EXTREME SUGAR HIGH? Please let me know!**

**And, as always... keep smiling! :D**

**Steph**

**xoxo**


End file.
